by Trish Mercer
Perrin just sighed and made himself comfortable. Once the floor was given to Beneff, he wouldn’t give it up until he covered it all.
“Yes-yes. The play is all about our colonel here, called ‘The Midnight Ride of Perrin Shin.’ About the caravan and the attack and the delivery to Edge,” he grinned. “My sister-in-law says it’s very moving. But you know, if the boot leaks, check with the bakers—”
Perrin was used to skipping over Beneff’s rambling, but Major Fadh was now leaning earnestly toward the doddering old fool, as if determined to discern some pattern to the randomness.
“—All kinds of costumes, scenes, movement, noise, ho-ho. My sister-in-law sits in on the practices with her friends. Whole collection of biddies, with their yarns and stick things and so—” He tried to make knitting motions with his hands.
Perrin sighed louder and looked up at the ceiling, wondering if it needed patching. The other soldiers began to smirk.
“—Supposed to open in Pools in just a few weeks. The play, that is. And it’ll be all the rage!” Beneff predicted. “The lead is that popular young buck, what’s his name?” he said, snapping his fingers. “Straw? Reed? Wool?”
Karna squinted. “Weaves?”
Perrin raised both eyebrows at Brillen that time.
“Yes!” Beneff slapped the table in Yordin fashion. It was contagious. All of them would be doing it by the end of the meeting. “That’s the man.”
Brillen burst into a grin. “That’s the name written all over the other side of my niece’s slate.” He turned to Perrin. “Nice going, there. Apparently every female under fifty loves him.”
The majors began to laugh, and their assistants covered their mouths just in case their laughter wasn’t appropriate.
Shin glared at Karna.
Brillen and Shem tried to hide their smiles, but not too hard.
Only Thorne sat stony faced.
“Oh yes-yes,” Beneff agreed. “Excellent bit of casting there, hey-hey. Couldn’t find a more popular actor even if the flowers weren’t blooming purple.”
Perrin’s mouth began to twitch, curiosity getting to him. “Has he ever been to Edge?”
Beneff shook his head. “Edge? Ho! That’s a laugh. Edge for Weaves. He’s too popular to have ever been here. But then again, I imagine they’d try to bring the production up—”
“No, no, no!” Perrin shook his head. “Definitely not.”
Shem snorted into his sleeve and tried to pretend it was a sneeze.
“Oh, I don’t know, Colonel,” Beneff said slowly. “Quite the thing it would be, hum-hum. Eh? Now, while we all know that spiders have different opinions about the cat, I’d be interested to see how they make that handsome young buck look as old as you. Ho, he’s only in his late twenties, if that.”
Shem’s next snort was so loud that Brillen slapped him on the back as a warning. He started coughing in a meager attempt to cover his laugh.
The majors and lieutenant colonel pressed their lips together firmly and stared at anything else but the colonel. Their assistants sitting next to them followed suit.
Because Perrin’s glare at Beneff had become deadly.
But the old coot didn’t notice. “You see,” he said turning to Karna’s lieutenant, “I’ve seen how they transform someone into another. Quite clever, really. They have these squishy cushions,” he gestured a bit aggressively, “that they put under the clothing to make someone appear bigger and fatter—”
Perrin felt himself sucking in his gut ever so subtly. His trouser size had increased only two, maybe three inches since he was a lieutenant, but still. He glanced at Shem to see if he noticed, but Master Sergeant Zenos was staring at his lap, his shoulders spasming every few seconds.
“—then,” Beneff continued enthusiastically, now looking at Major Yordin’s master sergeant who held his face surprisingly well, except for the twitching near the corners of his mouth, “they put this powder in the hair to make it all gray—”
“I’m only starting to go gray,” said Perrin quietly.
There were indefinable noises that emanated from nearly every soldier, mostly from their mouths and noses.
Except for Thorne who remained sat completely still.
“Well, of course, sir. But for dramatic effect, you see,” Beneff explained. He focused all of his attention on poor, struggling Zenos. Shem’s shoulders kept shaking, and he refused to look up.
“Then they take this special charcoal, ho-ho, and draw the lines around the eyes and mouth to emphasize all the wrinkles—”
A violent outbreak of coughing and snorting and back slapping struck the officers and their assistants.
Perrin had finally had enough. “Sergeant Beneff!” Some of the men had deadlines to keep, after all. “We can discuss this later.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Perrin noticed that Shem was now hiding his face in both of his hands and shaking uncontrollably. Only Thorne, of all the men in the room, maintained his complete composure. Apparently, Perrin decided, there was a benefit to having no natural sense of humor.
“Well, of course, sir,” said Beneff innocently. “You’re correct, and with cake on the side, ho-hum. We should be getting to your business, sir.”
“Thank you, Beneff,” said Perrin generously, and he surveyed the condition of the men in the room.
Some were bravely looking directly at him and practicing their serious faces, while the others cleared their throats, coughed, wiped their eyes, or repositioned themselves in their seats.
After a few moments the only one not near any semblance of attention was Shem, who was still vibrating. Something painful happened to him under the table, either from Karna on his left or Yordin on his right—by their demeanors, it may have been both—which made him jump in his seat. Finally Master Sergeant Zenos looked up with tears of suppressed laughter, and now pain, welling in his eyes.
Colonel Shin gave him a few seconds before saying, “Do you need to be excused for a while, Master Sergeant?”
Zenos’s mouth moved in a variety of ways before he eventually muttered a pained, “No, sir!”
The smallest hint of a satisfied smile crept around Perrin’s eyes. Shem was probably the only man who recognized it. “Then may we get to the situation at hand, Zenos?”
Shem nodded and put a hand to his mouth, just in case.
Perrin exhaled and leaned forward in his chair. With the entertainment portion of the meeting concluded, it was time for business.
“You all know by now that Guarders have taken over some of the houses in Moorland. The longer we let them be comfortable there, the more brazen they’ll be when they attack. With the weather warming, I doubt it will be long before they come to Edge, or Mountseen, or Rivers, or even Quake.” Without pausing to let the commanders add comments to their nodding in agreement, he hit them with: “Gentlemen, I’ve asked you here to propose that we join together and go after them first.”
Perrin fully expected the outburst of responses, and hoped that Thorne noted he was now seeing his first officers argument—the way an officers meeting should be conducted.
“An offensive hit?”
“We strike first?”
“That’s never been done before!”
“What does the High General think of this?”
“What kind of precedent will that set?”
Perrin waited for the surprise to die down before he continued. “I know this is uncharacteristic of the way this army has acted in the past. We’ve always been organized for purely defensive reasons. But I fail to see how sitting and waiting like a young buck in hunting season—” he glanced at Beneff, “—is going to preserve our villages. We know where they are for the first time, and we have people who know the area. A farmer working the fields across the road here used to live in Moorland. Mr. Briter has helped me create a detailed map of the area, and marked the houses which remained intact after the land tremor. Those are the most likely structures sheltering Guarders. If we combine the forces
of our four forts and hit them with one major strike, we could wipe them out. Men, it’s our turn to go hunting!”
The soldiers sat quietly stunned at the table, considering the idea, and Perrin worked his shoulders deeper into the chair, waiting. They would see it, he was sure. The obvious solution—
Fadh was the first to slowly begin nodding. “It could work. We could scout out the area again and see how many there are—”
“No,” said Perrin firmly. “They always seem to see us before we see them. Sending scouts would alarm them to our presence, and maybe even to our intentions. We need to catch them unaware. We make a full force strike with everything we have. One thousand armed men ought to eliminate whoever’s hiding there.”
Someone at the table let out a low whistle.
“And what does the High General think of this?” Thorne’s voice was thin.
Perrin had known it was his captain who had asked that earlier, and he’d been waiting to hear it again. He interlocked his fingers in front of him and leaned to his side. “I don’t know, Captain. I haven’t bothered to ask him. I suppose you could have discussed it when you were at The Dinner, but I didn’t have my plans completed then. High General Cush never seems to respond to my messages anyway. Do you know why that is?”
Actually, Perrin had sent only two unimportant messages about how many forms he was supposed to keep on hand at all times, or if he could burn the fort down instead, just to see if anyone was paying attention at the garrison. No one was.
Captain Thorne shifted restlessly in his chair and looked around the table. Every eye was on him, and none of them friendly, Perrin noticed with no small sense of satisfaction.
“No, sir. I don’t,” Thorne said. “But I’ll send General Thorne a message directly after this meeting if you wish.”
“I’ll take care of the messages to the Advisor myself, Captain Thorne,” Perrin informed him. Turning to the rest of the officers he said, “Here’s the first problem of several. While I have a plan of attack drafted and ready, I’d not able to lead the attack myself since I can’t go beyond the borders of the furthest farm, still three miles from Moorland. The owner of that farm has already agreed to postpone planting his crops so we can use the land as a staging area. The fort at Edge can keep us supplied, and I can direct from that point, but others will have to lead the attack should you agree to the plan.”
“Agree to this plan, agree to everything, sir!” Major Yordin said with a broad grin. “And if no one here minds, I’d be honored to lead the attack. Perhaps if we have an officer from each fort leading different sections, it will help unify the men under one commander. For example, if young Thorne here would represent Edge—”
Zenos cleared his throat loudly. “Uh, Major, excuse me, but Colonel?”
“Yes, Zenos?”
Perrin could see exactly what Shem was thinking: the captain couldn’t be trusted further than he could be thrown. Zenos looked around the table and caught Thorne’s gaze.
Thorne’s face remained stony but a definite spark of fear was in his eyes.
Shem noticed it, too, and he leaned back, a little less worried. “I’m sorry, sir. Never mind. Please go on, Major Yordin.”
Yordin sent Zenos half a smile. “As I was saying, Captain Thorne could lead the Edge contingency, under my guidance of course,” he nodded to Zenos next to him, “and really earn those patches on his uniform!”
Fadh smiled. “This idea’s getting better and better. And I would be honored to join Colonel Shin at the staging area and let my captain have the opportunity to earn his patches as well.” Fadh gripped his captain’s shoulder and shook it.
Fadh’s captain sat taller and nodded at Major Yordin. “Absolutely, sir! Quake will proudly serve next to Mountseen to eliminate the Guarders in Moorland. I welcome the opportunity. I’ve served for six years and look forward to some real action.” He shot a quick look to Thorne intended to stab him.
Thorne’s shoulder twitched.
Karna smiled. “Sounds like there’s going to be quite the party, and Rivers would hate to miss out on it. As many of you know, Shin and I have had our share of chasing Guarders. I was just a lieutenant the first time we engaged them.”
Perrin smiled at the memory of dragging a young, nervous Brillen through the forests for days and nights trying to flush the Guarders like pheasants. They killed their first Guarder together, promoting them from mere officers to real soldiers. Karna was definitely no longer that hesitant officer, and probably had more experience with Guarders than anyone except Perrin.
Karna continued, “But it’s time to let someone else get some experience, so I think I’ll let Captain Rigoff battle it out with my lieutenant here for the honor of leading the Rivers contingency.”
Karna’s lieutenant smiled back at him. “He may be older, sir, but remember, I’m faster. Major Yordin, it would be an honor!”
Brillen chuckled and winked at Perrin.
Perrin took a deep, contented breath. He thought getting the commanders to agree to an offensive would be far more difficult than this. But apparently sitting and waiting to be hit had become as tiresome to them as it was for him. Enough playing the wounded falcon. This bird may not have been able to fly out of his barn in Edge, but he still had talons and a sharp beak and lots of fight. And now he had hunters—
“Are ALL of you mad?”
Twelve pairs of eyes stared at the youngest officer in the room whose face revealed that he regretted opening his mouth. Even the sergeants keeping notes looked up from their pages. But there was no going back now for Captain Thorne. His words hung in the air, more obviously than Beneff’s.
Perrin folded his arms. Well, he had told him that officers’ meeting usually included a bit of shouting—
Captain Thorne looked at each of them, his eyes finally resting on Perrin. “Colonel, with all due respect, since when is being the aggressor the prescribed method of defense? They never taught this in Command School!”
Before Perrin could respond, Roarin’ Yordin did.
“You’re right, Thorne,” said Yordin. “But the field is far different than what you’ve been taught in the classroom. We do an injustice to students letting them believe that we’ve prepared them for life when they graduate. The university doesn’t do that. Only experience does. That’s why you’re here, young man. To get that experience, not to tell us what some old men behind desks think was accurate a decade ago.” He slapped the table.
“Hear, hear!” said Karna.
Fadh smiled in agreement.
“But, but . . .” Thorne gestured in exasperation, “you’re not supposed to go contrary to the prescribed methods without the explicit consent of the hierarchy!”
“Sounds like you recited that straight out of the book, Thorne,” said Perrin easily.
The other soldiers chuckled.
“Well I did!” he defended. “Considering who wrote it, I thought it was important to remember. You know who wrote that book, Colonel?”
“Yes, I do, Thorne. My father. When he was first made the High General. And that was a few decades ago. It no longer applies.” Perrin’s voice grew husky. “Much of what he wrote and believed no longer applies.”
“Thorne,” Yordin leaned across the table. “You obviously can memorize and remember everything. But boy, you’re inexperienced. Out here you learn to think on your feet. There isn’t a ‘prescribed method’ for every situation. If I wrote to your grandfather for approval of every decision, nothing would ever get done. As commander, I am in command. If the High General doesn’t like my decisions, he’s welcome to tell me himself. I like Colonel Shin’s idea. It makes sense. No, it’s not standard procedure, but these aren’t standard times.” He leaned back in his chair. “Do you know why I became an officer?”
“No, sir,” Thorne said, his jaw set.
“Years ago—now, mind you, I’m not as old as Old Colonel Shin here,” Yordin smirked. “I’m only forty-two. But when I was a boy, my grandfather and grand
mother disappeared.”
“Really?” Perrin had never heard about that.
Yordin nodded to him before turning back to Thorne. “First my grandfather, then the next day my grandmother. My father didn’t know why or how. There was no forced entry into the house, no bloodshed, and no sign of them suddenly deciding to move and not telling anyone—which wouldn’t have been in their nature anyway. A few unimportant papers were gone, but nothing else. My father called for the chief of enforcement the night my grandfather went missing. He and several enforcers scoured the village looking for clues. My grandmother sat distraught in the house with my mother. I remember her crying, and late into the night my mother fell asleep on their sofa. I was groggy and leaning against her when I felt someone kiss my forehead. I opened my eyes and in the dim light I saw my grandmother. That was the last time anyone saw her. The next morning she was gone as well.”
Thorne had the decency to seem disturbed. “I’m sorry to hear that, Major. But sir, people go missing every year. It’s not our domain. That’s always been the responsibility of the enforcers.”
“True,” conceded Yordin. “And my father had little faith in the enforcers of Vines. After only one day they gave up, said they had nothing to go on. My father went all the way to Idumea looking for someone to help, and he found someone willing to listen: High General Pere Shin.”
Perrin studied his hands and gave them a small smile.
Yordin continued. “General Shin had heard of other people missing as well. He had done some investigating on his own and had a theory that he shared only with my father: Guarders.”
Perrin’s head snapped up, his eyebrows furrowed in surprise. His hands came apart as he said, “What?”
Major Yordin nodded. “This was still the time of the kings, you realize,” he said again to Thorne, who looked very interested. “At the time, some suspected King Querul the Third actually controlled the Guarders, or at least a small portion of them. It’s handy to have a secretive society doing your dirty work for you, such as assassinating those who speak out against you. General Shin couldn’t make his suspicions known or he would’ve been the next victim.” Yordin shifted his gaze to Perrin. “I’m sorry, Colonel. I’ve never told anyone this before. But now it seems imperative.”