by Trish Mercer
“I’m telling you, I’m as fit as any man and my mind’s sharper than a . . . a sharp thing that can cut—a sword! Yes, than a sword!”
The fort surgeon Dr. Stitch patted Beneff genially on the shoulder. “Of course you are, of course you are. You know, I’m retiring in another moon. Lots of things for men our age to do—”
“In the army, ho-hi!” Beneff exclaimed, trying to put his shirt back on.
“Beneff, according to my records you’ve been serving for over fifty years, and we don’t have an accurate age for you. All that was recorded when you joined is ‘about 24’. Weren’t sure of your age when you signed up?”
“I knew my age!” Beneff insisted, missing a button and restarting again. “Lied like everyone else, don’t you know, don’t you know? So I’m not seventy-whatever, now am I?”
“More like ninety-whatever,” Stitch murmured to himself.
“What, what? Huh! As if the fish know where to harvest the corn. Big push we have coming, you know—”
“I do know,” Stitch sighed. “That’s why we need to make sure you’re able—”
“My whole career’s been waiting for this!” Beneff declared, hopping off of the exam table. “My heart’s beating, my lungs are breathing, my head’s thinking, and I have a duty to perform!”
Stitch nodded. “Yes, Colonel Shin’s told me you’ll be helping to set up camp and he wants to make sure that you’re—.”
Beneff scowled. “That’s not all, hi-hee and with cabbage to spread it around. That’s only one part! I’ve been waiting a long time. I have a duty to perform! You’ll not stop me! Not you nor a herd of elephants!”
Stitch put on a smile appropriate for seven-year-old boys. “Now, now, no one’s trying to stop you, but I can’t help but ask: are meh-dohs where the elephants feed?”
“Ha! HA-HA!” Beneff barked. “You know nothing! So stick that on a horse and watch it simmer!”
Beneff kicked open the door furiously and headed down the hall, shouting something about ducks and their inability to use tools.
An assistant sidled up to Stitch. “Well?”
The surgeon sighed. “In two weeks we’ll force his retirement. Let him finish out his last ‘great’ duty in setting up tents for the colonel’s offensive, then let him leave with a shred of dignity.”
Beneff passed the open door, having initially gone in the wrong direction, and still not done expressing his displeasure. “Told you, my heart’s still pumping,” he bellowed as he headed down the other corridor, “my mind’s still thinking and . . . my pipes are still leaking! Ho, hum—where’s the blasted privy?”
“What were you saying about his dignity, Stitch?”
“I said, only a shred of it.”
---
Three days after the officers’ meeting Perrin trotted up the stairs to his office. He was going to beat the sunrise and watch it come through his window. Anxiousness filled him with a desire to get back to his attack plans as quickly as possible. He had to finish today or his energy would propel him straight out the windows.
His schedule the previous afternoon to rework the plans had been utterly demolished. First, he had to answer the distress banner at the village green just before midday meal. The frazzled chief of enforcement Barnie and his officers were overwhelmed trying to undo Edge’s first real Idumaeic jam.
A very apologetic rector, an older man visiting from Midplain to see Rector Yung, somehow caused three wagons, two carts, four horses, three mule teams, a broken crate of chickens, and an overfriendly hog to block an entire section of the granary district. Perrin still thought enforcement might have had all of that under control, except that’s when three of Mahrree’s students taking a stroll during midday meal when they should have been at school were attracted by the accident, as all boys are. They saw the driver of a wagon transporting mead leave his team to offer assistance. In a flash they stole the wagon, and the fort was summoned to help.
Since Zenos and Thorne were leading nearly all of the soldiers in a practice for the offensive along the western side of the village, Perrin, Lieutenant Offra, and a couple of enlisted men were all that were available to track down the boys. They retrieved them soon enough: the teens had stopped at an intersection to argue over which direction to take their stolen goods. When Perrin finished incarcerating them at the enforcement building, he went back to the jam to observe its untangling before heading to the fort.
That’s when he spotted the old visiting rector wringing his hands in worry and shouting apologies over and over. Perrin finally escorted him to Rector Yung’s and the elderly man couldn’t stop talking during the three-roads walk to the rectory. As they neared Yung’s, he took Perrin’s hand and shook it vigorously.
“Again, Colonel, I am so sorry. Really not in my nature, you know, to cause problems! I’ve been spending some time in Idumea and I guess it just rubbed off on me. But it’s a great honor to meet you, sir. I’ve admired you for years, and I hope to see you again some time. Truly, such a privilege to finally meet you!”
Fortunately at that moment Rector Yung came out of his house, saw his old friend approaching, and escorted him home, nodding his apologies to the colonel.
Perrin just chuckled and wondered for the briefest of moments why the Midplain rector said “admired for years.”
By that hour in the afternoon Perrin was forced to make good on his promise to Peto and watch his son’s first kickball game against a team from the south side of Edge. While Perrin thought it would have been far more entertaining to be on the field with his son playing with him instead of watching, he had to agree that Peto at least knew what he was doing. He scored the only two goals his team earned, and even though they lost, Peto grinned from ear to ear. Perrin had difficulty in focusing on the game when so many different strategies for Moorland were battling in his mind like the boys dodging each other on the field.
The evening was taken up by pretending to listen to Jaytsy describe every bug she found in the Briters’ farm, and if it was harmful or helpful. Perrin found himself naming the different sections of the attack after the insects. Mantis. Aphid. Locust. Centipede. When Jaytsy mentioned “ladybug,” Perrin smugly thought that could be a name for Thorne’s division.
Then the hour before bed was his nightly, “Tell me about the day—all of it,” ritual with Mahrree. He’d given her so many details he’d considered making her an honorary officer. She could take over if ever he were injured. For the past eight weeks he’d been as solid as ever, and he was considering ending their practice so he could have some time to himself, but Mahrree had grown accustomed to Colonel Cuddly on the sofa, and he owed her that much.
It seemed only in the early mornings could he find the solitude he craved in which to concentrate on the plans without interruption. But as he reached the top stair of the command tower that morning, he realized that his hour wasn’t going to happen today, either.
Captain Thorne sat at the large desk in the forward office with a thick envelope in hand.
Perrin growled softly, thinking that he could have named Thorne’s division after ants which he loved to crush under his boot. He wondered which kind of ant Thorne would prove to be this morning: the sycophant, or the defiant.
“Colonel! I thought I’d catch you this early,” he said cheerfully.
Sycophant, Perrin groaned to himself. He would have preferred him distant.
“How long have you been waiting, Thorne?”
“Just a couple of minutes, sir. From my quarter’s window I saw you arrive this early yesterday morning, so I just assumed—” The light faded from his eyes and he looked worried about having revealed he’d been spying on the colonel.
Perrin wasn’t too surprised by the worried look. It would have been good to see if it were genuine. But he wasn’t convinced yet. Lemuel Thorne was to be trying to be a different officer these past few weeks—more humble and willing—but only when he remembered to be. Apparently this morning he was attempting to be a perfect
subordinate.
Well, Perrin thought, we’ll see just how long this lasts.
“You made a safe assumption about my being here this morning, Captain,” Perrin said stiffly. “What can I do for you?”
Thorne’s face relaxed a little. “This came late last night, from Lieutenant Colonel Karna. In the message that accompanied it he said that I shouldn’t wake you, but just be sure I give it to you first thing in the morning. This would be first thing . . .”
Perrin gave him a fake smile as he took the message. He had perfected the smile so well a year ago at The Dinner that he had decided to keep it. He used it on the magistrate, the chief of enforcement, and on the group of admiring basket weavers from Mountseen who “happened” to run in to him as they slowly walked up and down every road several evenings ago.
“Come into my office. Let’s see what this is about.”
Perrin would have much rather preferred to discuss this with Shem, or even with Offra or Radan, who were pouring their hearts and souls into establishing the new storehouses.
But no, he had Captain Thorne in front of him, his second in command, and Perrin realized that at some point he might actually have to start treating him as such. Perrin sat down behind his desk and gestured for Thorne to take the chair opposite of him.
Thorne sat carefully, not too close, not too far away, with an oddly eager smile on his face.
Perrin tried to ignore the captain, who was almost painful to look at this morning, as he opened the thick envelope. Karna had sent a report about missing people. It wasn’t a complete list yet, but there was a name Brillen found interesting: Wistacerly Riplak.
“Riplak?” Thorne repeated when the colonel read it out loud. “As in the missing lieutenant from your parents’ home?”
“Yes, seems that way. They never did find him. Knock off a few letters here and there,” Perrin gestured to the document, “and ‘Wistacerly’ becomes Tace.”
“Wistacerly,” Thorne sniggered. “I can see why he wanted to be known as ‘Tace.’”
Perrin didn’t reply. He didn’t think the name “Lemuel” was anything to be proud of. Knock of a few letters, he becomes Muel. Mule.
“Thorne,” he said, instead of dwelling on the delightful possibility of muling the captain by knocking a couple of other things off, “do you know how old Riplak was?”
“He wasn’t in my year at Command School, so maybe a couple years older than me, sir. Maybe twenty-four last year?”
Perrin nodded. “Sounds about right. He was working in the stables at my parents’ before he went to the university. My father thought he was living with an uncle. He must have been in Idumea for about eight years. According to what Karna found, his parents reported him missing at age sixteen. That makes Wistacerly Riplak the correct age.”
“A runaway?”
“Another safe assumption, Captain,” Perrin attempted to give him a friendly smile, but he didn’t feel it. A part of him tried to remember that this boy was only twenty-three and still learning. He had made mistakes, there was no denying that, but everyone deserved a second chance, especially someone whose father was Qayin Thorne.
But then a much larger part of Perrin fumed every time he saw the insolent boy who thought he was entitled to his daughter.
Captain Thorne gave him back a wary smile.
“Perhaps Riplak wasn’t a runaway,” Perrin speculated out loud. “According to the report he’d had problems with thievery in Orchards, but no other conflicts with his parents. The runaways I’ve encountered usually are trying to escape their parents.”
“But what if the parents didn’t report any problems, sir? What if they lied and told enforcement they had a good relationship?”
Something in the way Thorne said those words made Perrin believe he had some experience with that. “A valid point. I’m sure most parents don’t want to admit any conflicts with their children.”
Thorne nodded.
Perrin wanted to feel some compassion for him. He really did. The Writings said he should. Lemuel’s family undoubtedly expected that he would someday become the High General, and it was difficult to live with such pressure, Perrin knew.
But as he looked at the anxious young man, the urge to leap over the desk and punch that boy in the mouth overwhelmed him again. He fought it down, just as he did a dozen times each day.
“What if, instead of running away, Riplak was coerced away?” Perrin suggested. “What if he was recruited by the Guarders so they could have a man on the inside?”
Thorne nodded at the idea. “But the university is so expensive. Where would he or the Guarders get the money to pay for it?”
“I used to believe that the money came from his ‘uncle,’ who may not even exist,” Shin said. “But I’m working on a new theory. When the Guarders, or thieving teenage boys, raid houses what do they take?”
Thorne shrugged. “Jewels, gold . . .” Understanding passed across his face. “Things of value! Things they can sell and use for purchasing what they need, like a Command School education?”
Perrin shook his head. “Stealing to afford an education. I never would have imagined that,” he muttered more to himself. “No one wanted their money’s worth when I was there. We were always looking for excuses to skip class. We actually cheered when one hated professor was sick for two weeks.”
Thorne narrowed his eyes. “Might that have been Berts?”
Perrin knew what Lemuel was trying to do, and it twisted in his gut. Diplomacy. Drag your enemy to a neutral ground, then find something in common there. Perrin had walked right up to it. But he was curious to see where Thorne might take him.
“Berts was the world geology professor back when I was there.”
Thorne nodded. “He’s still there. The man was drier than a drought in Sands. I fell asleep in his class once. Only time it ever happened in my time at the university,” the captain insisted. “Berts was so furious that he pulled me off my desk and marched me all the way to the garrison to my grandfather’s office, who also wasn’t too pleased. But General Shin?” Thorne looked down with a small smile. “Your father just laughed. Told me to spend the day in the office if I wanted.” Thorne lifted his head and tried to hold the colonel in his gaze. “He got me out of trouble that day.”
Perrin felt like applauding. Oh, nicely done, he thought. A dry attempt at humor, followed by bringing in Relf, then finding a way to honor his memory. No wonder he graduated early. He could create a whole course on authority manipulation. Perrin didn’t even have a way to verify if the story was true.
“How nice.” Perrin looked down at the report to fight the urge to break a few more of Thorne’s perfectly straight teeth. He’d heard that the molar he smashed had been repaired in Idumea, so it wasn’t as if Lemuel couldn’t spare losing another one. “Thank you for coming so early, Captain. This may be some evidence of Guarder conscription. You’re excused until your shift begins in two hours.”
“Thank you, sir. Uh, sir?”
Perrin looked up grudgingly to see Thorne appearing to be sincerely concerned about something. “Yes?”
“Do you think I’m ready? I mean, ready to lead the Edge contingency in the offensive?”
This boy just won’t quit, Perrin thought. Now he’s trying to appeal to the authority he just tried to manipulate. He looks almost pathetic. It suits him.
Despite Perrin’s eagerness to get rid of the captain, he decided he could spare a few moments in leisurely amusement. “No. Absolutely not.”
By the way Thorne flinched, he hadn’t expected that answer.
Perrin leaned back in his chair. It was good to see the boy squirm. “You have no experience and no contact with Guarders. Have you ever even taken a life, Thorne?”
He tried to sound confident in his answer. “No, sir. But I know how.” The squirm gave him away.
“It’s one thing in the practice arena,” Perrin said. “It’s quite another in real life.”
“How old were you the first time?
” Squirm. “When you and Karna had your first engagement?”
It was no longer amusing. Diplomacy again. Dragged unwillingly to the common ground.
“I was almost twenty-nine. Lieutenant Karna was twenty-three—your age. I’d been a captain for nearly six years, but it was the first real opportunity I had to prove myself.”
Thorne nodded. “I want to be ready, sir. The exercise with Zenos went well yesterday, I believe. You’ll have to ask the new sergeant major what he thinks, though. I want to prove myself to you. I respect your opinion, sir, as much as I respected your father’s.”
Perrin couldn’t suppress his groan. There was only so much a person could take this early in the morning.
Thorne bit his lower lip, unsure of how to read the colonel’s pained expression.
Perrin had to get rid of him before he became fully nauseated. “Thank you, Thorne. That will be all.”
---
After midday meal Sergeant Major Shem Zenos jogged up the stairs of the command tower. He nodded at Thorne who was talking with a corporal.
Thorne’s nod was so brief that Shem almost missed it. He chuckled to himself and knocked on the colonel’s door.
“Come in!”
Zenos stepped in and closed the door behind him. Perrin bobbed his head toward the wall. Shem winked, and while Perrin finished writing on a stack of pages, he walked over to the bookshelf, removed two large wads of cotton stashed in a hollowed out book, took them to the wall, and slid up the detailed map of Edge. Underneath were two fist-sized holes which, when filled with cotton, created a thorough dampening effect.
One of these days Captain Thorne would discover why some conversations in the tower were harder to listen in on than others.
Shem sat down in the chair across from Perrin.
“New jacket looks good, Shem.”
“I have you to thank for that.”
Perrin shook his head. “I’m not the one who’s exceeded recruiting goals every year for the past twelve years. And I’m not the one who’s consistently trained the most disciplined and talented soldiers in the world. You earned that new rank all by yourself, soldier, and you’re the youngest man to ever do it. You’re practically a general. There’s only one rank higher—Command Sergeant Major, equivalent to High General—and that was bestowed only once, during the Great War. Since it likely it won’t ever be again, I can’t help but wonder what you will do with yourself in the army for the next thirty years.”