by Trish Mercer
He certainly had seemed intelligent when they spoke, but it wasn’t his intelligence that the girls in her class nattered about at midday meal. They gossiped about his sandy-colored hair, his blue eyes, his muscular build, and anything else they could imagine from the brief minute he was in their classroom. Jaytsy had to admit he was handsome, but—and it was silly, she knew—Captain Thorne just didn’t look like the man she pictured she’d spend her life with. She could see herself with a soldier, but marrying Thorne would most likely mean a life away from Edge.
As Jaytsy listened to the girls in the class at midday meal speculating on the supposed merits of Captain Thorne, she became more unsettled and shuddered to find herself thinking so far in the future about men and marriage—until she remembered it wasn’t that far. Two of her older friends had already become engaged and would be married at age seventeen.
By the end of the midday meal break the conversation had mercifully shifted away from the captain, and Jaytsy was sure that was the last she would hear about him.
Until it was time to go home, because he was waiting for her.
A girl sitting next to a window let out a small squeal. “Guess who’s outside!”
Before the teacher could remind them that they still had five minutes, the mass of females rushed the window to ogle the young officer leaning against the split-rail fence that encircled the school grounds. Everyone, that is, except for Jaytsy. Even the teacher had to check out the view just in case it might be “trouble.”
“I think the only one who might have any trouble would be ‘Miss Jaytsy,’” one of her friends snickered. “And if you don’t want the ‘trouble,’ would you hand him along to me?”
Jaytsy sat stewing in mortification. “Maybe something’s come up and he needs to relay some information,” she said lamely.
“Ah,” said another girl, “a captain that’s a messenger. I thought that was reserved for hunky enlisted men like Zenos.”
When their teacher dismissed them, too distracted to work anymore, the girls hurried out of the building so that they could slowly file past Captain Thorne.
Jaytsy watched from the window as she leisurely put away her slate and books. The girls paced their passing in front of him so that he had to tip his hat to each one. He seemed entertained by the parade of young women. Jaytsy glanced at her teacher and saw the older woman send a satisfied sigh to the window.
When Jaytsy finally made her way outside, the captain promptly left his post and headed straight for her.
Dreading his answer, she asked, “Is something wrong, Captain?”
“There’s always something wrong—that’s why I’m here: to make sure no trouble comes to you.” He held out his arm for her.
Before she could formulate a reason why she shouldn’t, she politely slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “Some would say trouble has already come to me.”
Captain Thorne frowned as he tried to puzzle out her response.
“And we are going . . .?”
“To your home,” the captain informed her. “Considering these troubled times, I thought it best to see you there safely.”
Jaytsy was aware of her schoolmates watching them, and she worried that the captain could hear their tittering.
“I’m sure there’s nothing to fret about now. The towers are quiet, and so are the roads,” she said.“I can make it home myself. I usually go to meet my mother and brother at their school anyway,” and she released his arm.
He took her hand back. “Miss Jaytsy,” he said with a gentleness that sounded more rehearsed than sincere, “I’m concerned about your father. He still seems greatly affected by what happened in Idumea.”
Jaytsy cringed. So the fort knew something was wrong, too.
“I happened to be near the hospital when my father and grandfather brought him to see his parents. Miss Jaytsy, I don’t think he’s quite over that experience. His eyes were nearly dead that day, and in many ways they still are. It’ll take him some time to recover, so I’m here to watch out for your family.” His tone was so smooth and slick that it made Jaytsy think of snakes. “In case he’s unable to help you, know that I will. So, if you want to go to your mother’s school, then I’ll walk you there instead.”
Jaytsy tried not to groan too loudly as she squirmed in annoyance. She didn’t want to discuss her father. She didn’t want this kind of attention. And she most certainly didn’t want to be courted.
Well, maybe she did. Just not by Lemuel Thorne.
She had to do something with the captain who seemed intent on possessing her hand, requiring the rest of her to follow. “On second thought, I guess we can go to my home.”
Thorne patted her hand. “We can talk there until your mother arrives.”
It hadn’t occurred to her that no one would be at her house, and being there with him alone wasn’t appropriate. But she couldn’t suggest now going to the boys’ school again. Not that she cared at all about his opinion of her, she didn’t want to seem that flighty. “Talk about what?”
“Goals, ambitions, the future.”
Jaytsy scoffed a laugh. “Oh, is that all! I thought maybe hobbies, what you like to read, what’s the dullest thing in Edge compared to Idumea. Something less commonplace than ‘ambitions.’”
She glanced sideways and saw confusion on Thorne’s face as he pondered her sarcasm. “Funny,” he decided.
Jaytsy sighed. If one had to analyze if something is ‘funny,’ then one usually had a weak grasp of what ‘funny’ is.
They walked in silence to her house, fortunately not far away. All the way there Jaytsy tried to think of ways to abandon Thorne on the front porch to avoid ‘talking.’ When they reached the steps, Jaytsy released his arm, shook his hand formally, and said, “Thank you for the escort, Captain. I have a great deal of school work to do. Perhaps we can talk another time.”
The captain, a bit surprised, nodded. “Only if you’ll call me Lemuel when we’re alone.”
“Oh, I can’t do that,” Jaytsy said with feigned brightness. “I’m not sixteen yet. Can’t break the expectations of society, now, can we?” She turned abruptly, ran up the stairs into the house, shut the door, and bolted it while the captain still stood at the steps with his mouth open trying to form a response.
He was determined, she had to give him that. He was there every afternoon the next week to walk her home again. They rarely talked about anything but army life or horses. Actually, he did all the talking, about his paternal grandfather’s stables and how he’d produced a breed of horse that was not only strong but fast. Jaytsy heard every dull, agonizing detail.
She soon realized that if she let Thorne ramble, she could think of other things as they walked, while giving him an occasional, “Uh-huh,” or “Is that so?” to keep him going. He never noticed that she wasn’t listening. And when they reached her front doorstep, she ran up the stairs before he could say or do anything else.
She’d never been so happy to see the Late Planting Season Break come a couple of weeks later. Life was tenser at home with her father’s bad nights—even with Shem helping to mollify him—and Jaytsy had already decided she’d spend as much time away as she could during the break by volunteering to help plant the neighboring farms. Every last piece of vacant land was to be turned into a garden to replace the reserves Edge took from Idumea—except for the Shins’ gardens which no one thought would produce anything but rock—and every available body was needed to work.
Jaytsy could be gone before breakfast, when her father would do nothing but stare at his plate and drum his fingers, and not return until after dinner, when he’d speak only in stilted sentences.
Before the break, Captain Thorne patted her hand. “Just because school is out for a week doesn’t mean I can’t continue seeing you. Let’s think of a time—”
She interrupted him with a sigh of sadness that she thought sounded quite authentic. “I’ve volunteered to help with the late planting this year. I’ll be in different f
ields every day, so I don’t know how you could ever find me.”
Captain Thorne smiled. “Sounds like a challenge, Miss Jaytsy. Besides, the fort will be receiving some new horses from the Stables at Pools, and even though they’re not of my grandfather’s herds, I look forward to telling you about each one of them . . .”
He had tried to find her. Jaytsy had seen him searching the fields each day as he rode by. She’d repurposed one of her grandmother’s floppy hats she inherited to not only shade her but disguise her as well. Her mother thought it odd that Jaytsy wanted to work in the fields, but believed her excuse that she felt it was the family’s duty that someone finally learn something about farming.
By the time school began again on the 2nd Day of Weeding, Jaytsy had hoped that Captain Thorne had found someone else more interesting. Many girls had flirted with him as he stopped by the fields inquiring after her. They pretended to not know where or who she was, so that they could keep the captain all to themselves.
But on that first day back to school, there was Captain Thorne waiting as usual against the fence.
Jaytsy made sure she was the last one out of the building, hoping that the captain was there to escort someone else. No such luck.
As walked out of the school, Thorne put on a thick, sweet smile that would have excited bees. “You look well, Miss Jaytsy! None too damaged by laboring in the fields, I see.”
“Actually, I rather enjoyed it. But don’t tell my mother or she might disown me,” she said, obligingly taking his offered arm.
Thorne frowned at her comment, but said, “Well I certainly hope you’re done with all that. Your mother likely feels as I do, that on your hands and knees in the dirt isn’t your proper place. Now, I’m sure you’re eager to hear about my new horse. He’ll arrive soon, and I’ve already decided to call him Streak. You see, he’s—”
Jaytsy decided it was enough. It wasn’t fair to him and, she decided, this drudgery really wasn’t fair to her.
“Captain Thorne,” she interrupted him. “Lemuel,” she said more kindly, noticing out of the corner of her eye that he smiled when she said his name. “I appreciate your trying to take care of me, but I think you’d find your time better spent doing . . . something else.”
After a silent moment he said, “What do you mean?”
Jaytsy closed her eyes, wishing she’d planned this conversation further than to the first thing which popped into her mind. “It’s just that, um, everything’s fine and . . . I’m not ready for this. I’m not interested in ‘walking and talking’ for a few more years still.”
The captain’s pace slowed a little.
She glanced at his jaw and saw it tense. “But, Captain, many girls here are. You may not realize it, but you have quite a following at the school. Say the word and you’ll have a line of girls, older, prettier, and more ready than me waiting for a chance with you!”
She felt his arm flex under her hand. “You don’t understand, Miss Jaytsy,” he said in a low, cool voice. “You don’t breed the prized stallion with just any filly. Not even casually.”
She knew her mouth was hanging open ludicrously, but she couldn’t make it close. Her stomach lurched with disgust as she realized she was nothing more than . . . than breeding stock?
“No, Miss Jaytsy,” he said decisively, “I’ll just wait for you to be ready. In time you’ll see that this joining will be the most advantageous, to produce the best heir of our grandfathers. There’s no one else worthy of the blood of Thornes than the blood of Shins.”
Breeding stock for another general of the Army of Idumea!
Jaytsy wished for something sharp and cutting to come out of her mouth, but all she could do was will herself to get home so she could kick something.
He didn’t love her. He wasn’t even interested in her. Just her bloodlines.
Captain Thorne patted her arm a little too forcefully. “Yes. Fine. We have time,” he said vaguely.
Shocked and repulsed, Jaytsy couldn’t imagine how to respond and barely endured holding his arm.
When they reached her house, he grudgingly released her. She started in a quick dash for the stairs, but didn’t make it. Lemuel lunged, caught her arm, and pulled her back.
“Just so you know what you can look forward to.” He gripped both of her arms, pulled her close to his body, and kissed her firmly. Jaytsy’s mind went blank, and she desperately tried to recall any of the techniques her father taught her many weeks ago. All she could do was flail, but it was enough that he let her go.
He touched the satisfied smile on his mouth, then had the nerve to bow to her. “Until you’re ready for more, Miss Jaytsy.” And he tipped his cap and promptly left.
Jaytsy ran into the house and washed out her mouth with the hottest water she could get from the warm water pump.
Throughout dinner Jaytsy had watched her parents, wondering if she should tell them what had happened with the captain. But her father stared at his plate, stabbing aggressively at his pork chop, and her mother watched him, barely picking at her dumplings. Her brother wolfed down his dinner in record time then headed back outside with his old kickball. Jaytsy sighed and considered that maybe tomorrow would be a better day to talk.
Then Shem and the bottle of sedation from Idumea arrived late that evening, and Shem said they shouldn’t bother her father with anything else—
So well into the night Jaytsy sat on her bed with her knees pulled up to her chest, wondering how, or if ever, she should tell her family that Captain Thorne was waiting for his filly to be ready.
Chapter 2 ~ “I know everything that goes on here in Edge.”
Perrin stared out the northeast window of his private office in the tower and came to some conclusions.
The problem with Shem, Mahrree, Jaytsy, Peto, the fort—with everybody, really—was that they couldn’t see.
But Perrin could.
He could see them in the shadows, staring from the trees, going for cover behind a door, under a desk, into a shop, through a barn. . .
Shem said his mind was confusing him.
Mahrree said it was nightmares.
His children said nothing.
But he knew the truth: he was surrounded by Guarders, masquerading as cats.
Not literal cats—it wasn’t as if he was insane—but citizens looked at him, then looked again. Some were new who claimed they were from the ruined village of Moorland. Others said they were visiting relatives to help with rebuilding, or on their way to somewhere else, although Edge wasn’t on the way to anywhere “else.”
He’d spin around, and there they’d go—ducking behind a building or tree, and when he chased after them, they were already gone.
He changed his routines, patrolling different roads in patterns he never used before. And he stared into the eyes of those cats—those collaborators who Qayin Thorne had mentioned to Shem when he thought Perrin was dazed and presumably deaf from grief in the carriage—sent to the barn at Edge to keep an eye on the trapped and wounded falcon named Perrin Shin.
And someday, his family would believe him about the cats, if they weren’t already dead.
Colonel Perrin Shin was the only one who knew the whole truth. How could a man sleep with that knowledge?
Today out of the command office window and he observed another pair of cats setting up across the road from his fort taking over the old catapult fields. The abandoned farmhouse was being cleaned up, having been claimed by a couple around his age who waved pleasantly as he stalked by that morning.
He pulled over his spyglass and focused on the woman hauling crates into the house. Then he pivoted the shaft to get a closer look at the man tying a cow to a tree next to the barn that looked as if it could come down at any moment. Perrin didn’t feel even the smallest bit of guilt for watching the man scratch himself in a less-than-suitable place, sure that no one could see him. The spyglass was, after all, meant to spy on Guarders.
After an hour Perrin took a quick walk over to the run-d
own house, the dusty windows already wiped clean, and the sounds of scrubbing coming from the kitchen. He noticed that at the old barn the man was hammering a board against a leaning door frame.
Perrin straightened his jacket and marched over to him. Moments before Perrin reached him, the farmer turned around. He blinked rapidly to see Perrin continue his stride and stop only about a foot in front of him.
“You’re the colonel, aren’t you?” the man said, taking a short step backward and almost into his barn.
“I am,” Perrin said coldly. “And why are you here?”
The man blinked at him again, nervously. He was of average height, average weight, brown hair going gray at the temples, and light brown eyes. Nothing remarkable, nothing distinguishable. Exceptionally average, so as to not to be memorable in any way.
Exactly the kind of man Perrin would have chosen for the task.
“I, I, I, I . . .” the man stammered, “I . . . and my wife, of course, we’re from Moorland. Lost our home and my mother in the land tremor, and heard there were possibilities here. Cambozola Briter, sir,” and he held out his hand to shake Perrin’s.
Perrin slowly raised his hand and took Briter’s, squeezing it until he heard something pop. The man gasped slightly and Perrin released his hand.
“Bit of a mouthful, the first name there, isn’t it?” Briter said, trying to sound light-hearted but a trembling undertone gave him away. He shoved his hand into the safety of his trousers’ pocket. “I was named after four different ancestors,” he gabbled. “You can shorten it, though. You can call me Cambo, or Zola, or Bozola, and even in school I was called Bozo. So sir, you may call me—”
Perrin focused his glare. “Mr. Briter will suffice.”
Cambozola Briter swallowed hard. “I, I, I spoke to your master sergeant some days ago. Said soldiers planted this field, but it needed to be taken care of,” he rushed. “My wife is an excellent gardener, sir, I’m a fair cheese maker, we’ve got chickens and plans to buy more cows. The master sergeant said we could provide food to the fort in lieu of payment for the land. We’ve got some builders lined up to shore up the barn. He, I mean that sergeant, had us a sign a paper and everything.”