by Trish Mercer
She reread the words of the next guide, Clewus.
The entire world was given to us freely from the Creator. He doesn’t want us to horde and sell His gifts; He wants us to share all things freely, with whomever has a need. There will always be enough, and even more to spare. No one should be in want. This compulsion to take and then force others to hand over shiny bits of metal—that’s the power of the Refuser, his method of putting all of us in bondage to each other. Can’t you see?
It was truly ludicrous.
“No one will be lastingly happy with yet another plow, or an additional bale of hay, especially if it cost a friendship or a life. Why do friends come to blows over an ugly hat?”
She felt the cosmos shrug along with her.
“Is there anyone in the world that’s sane?” she whispered. “Shem, certainly. And Rector Yung. But anyone else in the world who realizes we’ve been doing it all wrong?”
There were times the cosmos seemed to wink at her with the notion that there was nothing else for her to know. At least, not yet.
Mahrree looked out the dark window. “They’re just like animals,” she decided. “No. Worse than animals. We may no longer debate but we’ve retained our ability to rationalize away logic and compassion. We can be so great, or be so terrible. It seems we’re content to just be terrible.”
---
A few nights later Perrin was up again past midnight, but not because of another bad dream. This time it was because of a good one, of his own making.
The idea had been growing in him for over a year now, but since Edge’s temper tantrum three days ago—where more than forty properties changed hands, two dozen more were burned to the ground, five people died, and Edge had divided itself into too many factions of former friends and neighbors who now hated each other that he lost count—he was nearly jumping out of his skin at the thought of what he could do next. An hour each night for a few weeks ought to do it.
So, once he was sure Mahrree was dozing deeply—she didn’t think she snored, and he’d never tell her that she did because it was always a reliable signal for him—he slipped out of bed and crept down the stairs. He made his way to his study and shut the door noiselessly. Before he lit a candle, he made sure the curtains were closed completely. He didn’t want any light leaking out, or any worried soldier or nosy neighbor peeking in.
Once he lit the candle, it dimly illuminated his shelf of books and ignored awards. Nearly vibrating with excitement, he carefully pulled from the top shelf a roll of parchments.
He set them on his desk and grinned.
Chapter 24 ~ “We will accept no less than a two week stay.”
Harvest Festival was uncomfortable that year.
Even though six weeks had passed since the riot that divided the village, Mahrree noticed that the market which was normally crammed with happy people preparing for the feast was now uncommonly quiet. People still shopped, but they snatched up items and headed away before accidentally bumping into someone they now hated. While the usual games and events were planned, they were sparsely attended since no one wanted to risk coming face to face with an enemy.
Some people were still upset with Magistrate Wibble and Chief Barnie, a few with Trum, and even a couple with Colonel Shin. There was enough antagonism to throw around liberally, with no one taking blame for their own behaviors.
The Strongest Soldier Race was run without any notice to the village, so only soldiers and the Shins witnessed it. Even though Perrin lost to Shem by a couple of seconds, it was still his victory because he took an unscheduled detour through Trum’s new cattle pen.
Trum had his laborers had hastily put it together, connecting two properties that he now claimed and spanning a road that had been there for a hundred years. Mahrree had never seen Lieutenant Offra laugh before, but he did so almost uncontrollably as he told her about Colonel Shin leaping over the fence which terrified three hundred head of cattle. Within moments the stampede began, easily tearing through the makeshift pen. Mahrree had been waiting along the route to cheer on her husband, but she had to first see the mess he created. She arrived at the empty fields to watch a cloud of dust making its way to Moorland. Trum shouted and wailed and begged his neighbors and workers to round up his cattle running west, but no one was too eager to help. Many of his neighbors had been hoping to claim those animals and lands themselves, and when his laborers heard they weren’t going to be paid extra, they dawdled in saddling up their horses.
The glare Trum shot at Mahrree only made her grin, and she and Offra laughed all the way back to the village green to see the end of the race. Even Shem had to admit that had Perrin not taken that quarter mile detour off of Brillen’s route he would have easily won.
However, Perrin feigned surprise to hear that he had strayed from the route Karna had set, and blinked in believable innocence when Chief Barnie told him Trum wanted to press charges.
“But all I did was run along a road that’s been there longer than I have. How about this: tell Trum I’ll personally go round up his cattle.”
Trum didn’t take him up on the offer, nor was there any law in the books that he could throw at Perrin about running on roads.
Trum never did recover all of his lost cattle, but Perrin told Mahrree he’d noticed some of the herds west of Edge seemingly a bit fuller than they had been. Apparently there was no deadline on appropriating the goods of the dead.
When the Raining Season rolled around that year, Mahrree hoped that the cold would bring down the heated lingering resentment in Edge. Some tensions were beginning to ease. Some people even smiled back at her at the market. But most Edgers were keeping to their homes now that the snows had come. In what condition they would emerge in the new year was a mystery, like planting an unfamiliar seed and hoping that whatever blooms later was worth the space and water given it.
But a knock at the front door on the afternoon of the 43rd Day of Raining Season reminded Mahrree there were no more predictable seasons. There stood an official messenger from Idumea. That the messenger came to the house, and not the fort, gave Mahrree a hint of what it was about.
She opened and read the message.
Then she said, “Hmmm.”
She put on her thick cloak and walked in the falling snow to the fort, into the reception area of the command tower, and up the stairs.
Shem, consulting the map on the wall, looked at her in surprise.
She raised her eyebrows briefly.
He gave her a complicated look back.
She held her hands up in surrender. “That’s all I know, Shem. Don’t confuse me. Is he in?”
Shem grinned. “Yes.” He knocked on the wall behind him in a pattern that apparently signaled, Your wife’s here.
“Really? Send her in,” Perrin called.
When Mahrree walked in he raised his eyebrows at her in concern. She gave him a unconvincing smile and held up the message.
“How’s it phrased?” he asked.
She opened it up. “‘Colonel Shin, Mrs. Shin, Miss Jaytsy, and Mr. Peto are expected to join the Cush family blah, blah, blah . . . for The Dinner. The Cush family would be most pleased if the Shin family agrees to reside at the High General’s mansion during their visit.’ And Mrs. Cush added, ‘We will accept no less than a two week stay. And bring that sweet, handsome Uncle Shem of yours.’”
“Hmm,” was all Perrin said.
“That was my response too. They’ve given us a full three moons’ warning. I mean, preparation time.”
A voice from the outer office called, “I’m not going.”
“If I’m going, you’re going, Zenos,” Perrin yelled back. “Even though it’ll have been almost two years, I don’t think they’ll let me back in Idumea without my escort.”
The door swung open and there stood Shem with a mischievous smile. “We could really have some fun there, you know.”
“I’m done having fun, Shem.”
“Good. So am I,” and he slammed the door.
---
Knock-knock . . . knock-knock-knock.
Perrin had heard that knock so many times each week he thought at some point it would stop causing him to cringe. Or at least stop the twitching near his eye.
But no.
Some part of his body always involuntarily spasmed when that third knock hit the door, followed by the last two signaling the arrival of the biggest pain in his . . . life. Aside from the occasional moments when Thorne’s true personality burst out to confront Perrin, he was usually a compliant, eager-to-please officer.
Which made Perrin want to kick him.
“Come in.” Sometimes it was so hard to get those words out.
The door opened and there he stood with what he likely thought was his most handsome grin, but he used it on the wrong person.
“Sir, I noticed Mrs. Shin was here this afternoon?”
“Yes . . .”
“She was holding an official parchment?”
“Tell me, Thorne—do you enjoy noticing everything?”
His jaw worked up and down for a moment. “Why, yes . . . isn’t that my job?”
“I don’t know,” Perrin said coldly. “Is it?”
Thorne glanced around the office, searching for an answer. Finally his eyes rested again on Perrin, and he pointed at him in the same manner the cheese hagglers do when they’re convinced they’re being had.
“Ha-ha,” the captain produced a grin. “It is, isn’t it? As second in command—”
Now Perrin glanced around the office. “Thorne, just who are you trying to remind of that fact? Is there anyone in this room who doesn’t know that?”
Thorne pulled his finger back. “Uh, no sir? I just, just—”
“You came in here for a reason, Captain?”
His tense smile returned. “Yes. Yes! I’m assuming Mrs. Shin was here because she received the invitation?”
Perrin’s shoulders went rigid. “Invitation.”
“To The Dinner, of course!” Thorne grinned so dazzlingly that Perrin clenched his fist under the desk. More of those teeth begged—begged—to be knocked out.
“Ample warning,” was all Perrin replied.
“So . . . can I tell my grandmother to expect you? You can choose the rooms you wish to occupy while you’re there.”
Perrin reclenched his fist. “Mrs. Shin will send our family’s response when a decision has been made, Captain. You need not worry yourself about women’s duties.”
Thorne blinked. “But if I can render any service, sir—”
It was the insincerity. Perrin stared deep into the captain’s blue eyes, but Thorne had built an impenetrable wall there which blocked a variety of truths which Perrin would likely find most repulsive. Some men had a little to hide. This boy hid his entire world.
“If there’s nothing else, Captain, I’m about to go out on rounds.” It was a bit early yet, but no sense in procrastinating.
Thorne stepped reluctantly away from the door. He must have had something more to say. “Uh, no sir—”
Perrin pushed past him and jogged down the stairs.
Thorne sighed and stared longingly at the colonel’s desk.
---
Jaytsy headed home from the market one afternoon, her breath forming fog and her basket heavy with the last of the year’s apples and some still-warm sweet breads. The heat coming up through the cloth protecting them was deliciously warm on her gloved hands.
“On such a cold day, would you accept someone walking you home?”
She shivered when she heard the voice next to her ear, but it wasn’t because of cold.
“Of course, Captain Thorne.” A part of her was startled that he still existed. She hadn’t even thought of him for many moons. But that was partly because everything about him was all wrong. His eyes reminded her of ice, his blonde hair the bales of hay in that barn. And always there was that odd scent of lavender.
“Thank you,” she said curtly as she took his arm. She felt him flex his muscles in his sleeve and she wished she had a pin to poke them with.
“Did you hear about the invitation?” he said amiably.
“To your grandparents’ dinner? Yes, it came about a week ago.”
“I’m looking forward to it. My family is too. I think they’re hoping for another show to be put on by your father,” Thorne chuckled stiffly. “I wonder what he’ll come up with this year! Last year was, well, a little dull by comparison to that baby incident. He really seems to enjoy babies—”
“Oh, Captain—” Jaytsy cut him off before he could suggest anything else about babies.
“Lemuel,” he reminded her.
She suppressed a groan. “Lemuel, we haven’t decided if we’re going.”
“Oh, but you have to come!”
“Lemuel, it’s just that . . . I don’t think . . .” She faltered until she came up with, “My father still has some memories of Idumea that I’m not sure he’ll ever get over. He’s come so far this past year, and we’d hate for anything to happen to him. It’d be terrible for him to go to that mansion now and, well, you can imagine. It certainly wouldn’t be dull, I could promise that!”
Lemuel worked that over for a second before declaring it, “Funny,” faster than he ever had before. “Jayts—”
She winced at his shortening her name like that. Only her family, Uncle Shem, and now Deckett—or rather, Deck—called her that.
“—can I share something with you? I really want your father to go. My grandfather’s health has been failing, and my father is . . .” Thorne sighed and sounded genuinely concerned. “I’m not so sure that my father is up to replacing him.”
Jaytsy watched him from the corner of her eye and noticed his jaw moving, looking for the right words.
“He can be difficult,” Lemuel finally said. “I believe Colonel Shin would be a far better High General. He needs to be there at The Dinner so that everyone can see him as we see him now. He’s just the right . . . ” He shook his head, unsure of how to phrase it.
Jaytsy let out a breath that hung in the cold air while her insides squirmed. “I really don’t know, Lemuel—”
He stopped walking. Taking Jaytsy’s hand, the captain looked around and found a wide tree off the side of the road. He pulled her over to the meager shelter of it, out of the traffic of the dozen or so people on their way to the market.
Gripping her arms, he looked fervently into her eyes. “Miss Jaytsy—Jayts—then you come with me! Please, to Idumea.”
Jaytsy’s mouth dropped open. “Just . . . just . . .”
“Yes, just you and me! We could take the fort coach and talk all the way there. We’ll stay with my grandparents at the mansion, tour Idumea, and see the plays. I heard the one about your father is quite good. They keep extending its run, and they’d give us the best seats in the theater, I’m sure. There’s so much you didn’t get to see two years ago. Let me show it all to you! My mother could take you shopping. I know that’s what girls love to do,” he said as if he’d uncovered some mystical secret. “You could buy the newest dresses, shoes, hats . . . anything you want. It’s all yours!”
Jaytsy couldn’t speak. She could only stare at him as he beamed at her and his brilliant idea.
He had no idea what girls loved. At least not this girl. He had a narrow view of women and applied it lazily to her. Nearly two years ago she’d enjoyed shopping with her grandmother, but since then the world had changed around her. Even Edge had shifted, and pushed her in new directions as well. She didn’t even care that she wore her grandmother’s flowered dresses after Harvest Season.
And no men she cared about were interested in fashion or the theater. It was all fake and contrived, and unappealing.
But she knew what she did love, and it was glorious to no longer worry about the world’s opinions. She loved real things. Dirt on her hands and un
der her fingernails. Flicking insects off the corn. Filling wagons with potatoes. Braiding the greens of onions together. Measuring milk yields. Churning butter. Sampling cheeses. Looking into cows’ eyes.
Cow eyes.
Lemuel shook her a little by the arms. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she finally muttered.
“Yes, you’ll come with me?”
“No!” she nearly shouted. “I meant, yes, I’m all right. But Lemuel . . . I need to talk to my parents about this.” That was a safe excuse to buy her time.
“Of course. Naturally.” Lemuel lost a bit of his earnestness. “Maybe you can convince them they should all come. Please try, Jaytsy. Promise me? And consider us? Much could happen on a trip like this.” He licked his lips hungrily.
That was exactly what she worried about. Much could happen alone with him in a carriage for days. She felt the urge to kick him for his presumption. Of course he wanted her alone in a carriage for days. No room for her to fight and run, no Shem to threaten him . . .
“I will speak to my parents, Captain Thorne,” she said firmly. “That’s all I can promise right now. I need to go home. My mother’s expecting me.”
“Of course.” He smiled and began to lean toward her.
Jaytsy wasn’t about to be nauseated again by an unwanted kiss. She dodged out of the way, and in two quick steps she was back on the side of the road heading home at her fastest walk.
Thorne jogged to catch up to her and let escape an awkward chuckle. Without a word she took his arm again out of politeness, although she wasn’t sure why—it wasn’t as if he had been insinuating anything polite—and he patted her hand. It was the longest three blocks she’d ever walked.
When she dropped the basket of food in the kitchen a few minutes later, she told her mother, “We have a problem. Lemuel Thorne walked me home. He wants me to go to Idumea.”