by Trish Mercer
She wasn’t thinking about her daughter, although after six weeks of marriage Jaytsy had finally moved the last of her things over to her new home at the Briter farm. Mahrree was startled at her mixed feelings about that. As happy as she was to see her daughter blissfully married, removing her things a little each day had been like peeling off a scab from a wound that would never heal.
Her daughter had left her.
True, it was just down the road, and she still saw her every day, but it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same, ever again. Mahrree hadn’t expected to feel such a sense of loss when she, Perrin, and Peto rode home from Mountseen, Jaytsy already off starting her new life with her husband.
Jaytsy didn’t seem to feel any of it, though. Her giggling actually increased, and the way she looked at Deck, and the way he blushed back—well, Mahrree knew it was the very best thing that could happen for both of them.
But still Mahrree felt better two weeks after the wedding when she found Jaytsy in her old bedroom, weeping.
“You moved Grandmother Peto’s shelves into here?”
“Well, yes, Jayts. To give us more room around the table.”
“But this was MY room.”
“Yes, Jaytsy, it was. Now you have a whole house—”
“But this was MY room!”
That’s when Mahrree realized her daughter felt the loss too. They cried together for a few minutes, then laughed about how silly it all was and picked up another crate of her books to carry down the road.
Perrin had tried to understand what they were experiencing, but didn’t get it. “They’re both here as much as they always were!”
Peto thought the newlyweds were gooey and ridiculous whenever they came for dinner and fed each other from their plates. But then again, that’s because he was sixteen and utterly uninterested in the opposite sex. But he was still interested in kickball, unfortunately. For Peto’s birthday yesterday they broke down and gave him a new leather ball. Since he was finally the height of Jaytsy, and still growing and adding a bit of Perrin-like bulk, Mahrree worried that the professional recruiters who came around each year would regard her son with renewed interest for teams in Idumea.
But for now she didn’t worry about that, because her mind all night had been focused solely on one fantastic possibility that may eventually take shape since they were leaving this morning—
She giggled again in anticipation.
“What?” a groggy voice said next to her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she chuckled. “Go back to sleep.”
“Is she here again?” he mumbled.
Mahrree laughed out loud. “No, she’s not here again, and neither is he! It was only once that Jaytsy came over this early in the morning. Now go back to sleep.”
“Well, you just never know. She may be in a panic about something again. Deck might have another headache.”
“Oh, come now. You were worried about him too.”
“I was worried about my back. That boy weighs more than he looks like he would. Some son-in-law he turned out to be,” Perrin grumbled into this pillow. “Married for only a few weeks, gets himself kicked unconscious by a bull. How can he take care of his bride when he’s out cold?”
“Bah!” Mahrree scoffed. “He’s the best son-in-law in the world! Sweet, funny, adoring, and never complains about her cooking.”
“That’s because they’re always having dinner here. She may have a knack for growing food but not for cooking it.”
Mahrree poked him. “They’re here for dinner maybe three times a week, that’s all. You’re certainly a grump today. And you’re one to talk about taking care of new wives. When we were married for less than a season you left me for days to chase Guarders in the forest with no word as to what happened to you. At least Jaytsy knew her husband was on the ground in the barn.”
“And the next morning he was sleeping peacefully in bed and she thought something was wrong with him,” he muttered.
Mahrree rolled her eyes. “She wouldn’t have been worried if you and Shem hadn’t told her that if she couldn’t wake him up something could be wrong.”
“Dying men don’t snore, Mahrree.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. My, but you’re a bear this morning. Just how late did you get to bed last night?”
He growled. “Don’t know. It wasn’t last night anymore, though.”
“So do you think they’re off yet?”
“With any luck. The plan was for the expedition to leave before dawn, but they have some men more skittish than squirrels. They’ll probably postpone again, but I can’t imagine what else they could possibly need. We went through their list at least a dozen times,” he groused. “I left the duty up to Thorne to get them on the road. Told him they better be gone by the time I got to the fort or I’d make him join the expedition.”
Mahrree laughed. “Ooh, then I hope they haven’t left yet! Maybe you should get dressed and run up there, right now. We could get rid of Thorne for nine moons.”
Perrin finally laughed and rolled on to his back. “I just want them to go already.”
“I’ll admit I’m so excited!” she squealed like a nine-year-old. “I can’t believe the Administrators are finally doing this. It’s about time. This land grab fever has struck the whole world. How long do you think they had that map?”
“The expedition leader told me it arrived at Chairman Mal’s office right before The Dinner, so at least six weeks,” he said, his eyes still closed. “The Administrators thought about presenting it at The Dinner, but some of them were too nervous about it. That’s why they waited another two weeks before they revealed they had it. Apparently they were arguing about what to do with it all that time. If there wasn’t this crazed demand for more land, I doubt the Administrators would have moved so quickly to form the expedition. The sooner we find new places to settle, the sooner we establish peace in the villages again. Some were seeing more violence than they ever did when the Guarders were still active.”
“The timing for the map to appear couldn’t have been better,” Mahrree said. “With the weather warming back up, I was sure everyone’s tempers would too. At least with the thought of new territory no one’s fighting lately. They’re content with waiting to see just how much greener the fields are on the other side of the desert. Then they’ll start fighting again over who gets to claim that.” She sighed, long and heavy.
Perrin opened his eyes and braced himself, suspecting what was coming next.
“I’m still not happy with you, you know,” she told him. “Why didn’t you let me see the map? You could have got permission, I know it.”
He rolled on his side and supported his head with his hand. “You would’ve had to come to my office.”
“Yes, I do that all the time.”
“People would’ve seen you.”
“So?”
“I have my pride to maintain.”
She squinted at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you remember what happened in Idumea on the campus when you saw that statue that was ‘made by the hands that shook the hand of Terryp’?”
She rolled on to her side and matched his pose. “What’s your point?”
“I don’t need any of my officers or the expedition leaders seeing my wife fawn all over some copy of Terryp’s ancient map. You would have started drooling and crying over it at the same time, I’m sure of it. That’s all I need to get around—the colonel’s wife in love with a dead historian.”
Mahrree chuckled. “I’m not in love with Terryp, I love the idea of Terryp. Of what he did. Surely you understand the distinction. I’m completely in love with you.”
He sighed skeptically. “So why are you still pestering me about seeing the map?”
“Because I love hearing you sigh. Besides, are you sure it was a copy? I mean, their last expert was you, after all.”
“You doubt me?”
“No, it’s just tha
t you’re not much of an expert, really.”
He shrugged. “I’m the only one they knew with a collection of old maps. I compared the copy of the map to what I have. While it was created on older parchment, the quality was the same as the maps I have from 40 years ago. It couldn’t have been 130 years old. Besides, whoever sent that map would have been smart enough to not send the Administrators the original. And the Administrators knew it was a copy as well. That’s why they organized the expedition to find head west so quickly. They knew they couldn’t ignore it because other copies could be sent all over the world until someone finally did something about them.”
Mahrree rolled on to her back and looked at the ceiling. “I wonder who it was. I wonder what else they have! And where did they get the map in the first place? It was supposed to have been destroyed in that fire along with the family lines. Oh Perrin, what else might have survived? And where was it? Where’s it now?”
“Well, I found my maps at the old garrison,” he offered. “My father said no one wanted them since they were making new ones. I know the kings had kept some documents there, near where my father had his storage room.”
“Hmm,” Mahrree mused. “If he were still with us I would have guessed it was Relf. Maybe it was a soldier, one that was going through the debris after the land tremor. They pulled out all kinds of documents.”
“I considered that too,” Perrin nodded. “Seems most logical. Then again, someone could’ve found it in an attic, or maybe it was held by someone who took it before the king could destroy it. A servant, a soldier . . . maybe a historian. Maybe their families held it all these years, passing it down through the generations, waiting for someone to feel the need to know what Terryp found. Who knows. Too many hands may have held it in the past 130 years to track where it is now.”
“But it gives me so much hope! What else is hiding out there, waiting to be found?” She sighed longingly. “I can’t believe Shem turned them down. If I were single and 37, I would have jumped at the opportunity to go on the expedition. Oh, if only I were a man!”
Perrin jabbed her in the ribs.
She turned to him.
He held up his hand in questioning.
She chuckled as she pushed it down. “You know what I mean. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere than right by your side, and as a woman. It’s just the idea of it all. And Shem said no?”
“He said he just didn’t have the desire to go.”
“How could he not want to go?” she nearly wailed.
Perrin sighed again.
She looked at him again.
“You’re the oddest woman I’ve ever known,” he declared.
She laughed. “Why?”
“How many women—girls—had an old historian as their childhood hero? I thought girls liked stories about the king’s daughter being rescued by a captain or whatever.”
She rolled to face him again. “What’s to admire about that? It was obvious none of the stories were true! Those girls were so helpless. And the kings suddenly had all these daughters?”
“Mahrree, you know as well as I do the kings had children everywhere. Remember my parents’ mansion? The purpose of it?”
“I mean aside from that,” she waved off the memory that the High General’s mansion was built to house King Oren’s mistress and his two illegitimate sons who could never claim the throne. “Really, who would believe that some Querul’s daughter—and no one ever knows if it was the First, Second, Third, or Fourth’s—whose golden hair was too long for her to run safely from the Guarders, would be rescued by a captain on a large black horse who suddenly appeared at the right time? And what does he do then? Any logical soldier would have taken his long knife and cut off that stupid braid, but no. The captain ties it carefully around her body, then lifts her on to her horse while the Guarders watch in respect of the action, and then he rides off with her?”
She rolled her eyes.
“So stupid, even to a seven-year-old. And the captains always have big black horses.” She laughed. “Just like your new horse. Now, Colonel, why is that?”
“Gari Yordin knows I like big black horses,” Perrin defended with a scoff. “It’s not like I’m going to turn down a gift like that. He had it brought up from the Stables at Pools two weeks before Jaytsy’s wedding, just waiting for me to come down. Said the owner’s son Roak chose him especially for me and accompanied him all the way there. All I sent him was one short thank you letter, and Roak chooses for me the strongest, fastest horse ever bred. How am I supposed to say no to all that planning and effort? Besides, Clark is the best animal I’ve ever had.”
“And what’s with that name? Clark. That’s not a proper name.”
“Better than his mother’s name—Pusheron. Seems that mare could continue for a distance and at a speed no one imagined such an enormous creature could. Still, Push-Her-On? The names some people come up with—”
“Why didn’t you just keep the name Yordin and Roak gave him?”
“Mahrree, you know full well I can’t ride a horse named The General. And Gari thought he was so clever, too. ‘Go get The General!’ Very funny.”
“Well it’s better than Clark,” Mahrree tried not to giggle.
“He likes the name,” Perrin defended, trying to hide his smile. “He’s already responding to it. You know, woman, were you that king’s daughter no captain would have rescued you. They would have just listened to you for a minute and said, ‘Turn her over to the Guarders. She’ll drive them mad.’”
She giggled and kissed him.
“Look, ‘clark’ is the sound of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestone,” he explained.
“No it’s not. It’s much more of a clip-clopping sound.”
“Clip-clopping? And how would you know? You’ve never been on a horse.”
“I have too. A couple of times your soldiers gave me rides, years ago. You, however, have never rescued me on Clark. Clark, clark, clark, clark. I’m sorry—I’m just not hearing it.”
“I seem to remember offering to give you a ride once or twice. But it’s not hard to see why I’ve never rescued you, Mrs. Shin.”
“Because I never needed your rescuing. Because I never intend to be one of those silly women that say, ‘Help me, Captain! On your clark-clark!’”
He shook his head at her and tried not to smile. “You really want to go west, don’t you?”
She sighed. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”
“I have a plan. Don’t give me that look until you hear it,” he chuckled and pushed a lock of hair off her face. “How about when we celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary in two years we do something different. It seems to be tradition that men take their wives east to Waves, but that sounds dull. Just watching the sea go back and forth?”
Mahrree bit her lip in anticipation. “I agree. Go on . . .”
“What if we, Mrs. Shin, went west instead? By that time the expedition will be back with updated maps, the news must have been good—how dare they return otherwise?—and you and I will spend the Weeding Season in two years exploring the ruins ourselves.”
“Oh, don’t tease me like that.”
“I’m not teasing.”
“You’re serious?”
“I’m always serious,” he teased.
She sat up. “Have I told you today that you are the most perfect man in the world, and that I love and adore you more than words can say?”
He grinned. “Then maybe I better make sure that expedition is finally on its way.”
---
Mahrree had a difficult time concentrating at school that day. Her mind was heading west with the thirty scientists, assistants to the Administrators, and soldiers set to explore Terryp’s land.
Even if her mind wasn’t miles away, it was still getting harder to teach her students what the Department of Instruction insisted upon. Mahrree realized some time ago that she was now the only teacher not enamored with the government’s control of education, likely because the rest o
f Edge’s teachers had gone through the Department of Instruction’s very thorough training, and were wholly converted to the notion that government knows best. But each year the curriculum was more lifeless, and she could hardly blame her students for staring listlessly at the large slate board.
Only a third of her students were there that morning. Some were taking the Final Administrative Competency Test. Mahrree thought it was ironic that the first letters formed the word FACT, because very few useful ones would be found on it. That’s where Peto was, hoping to prove he didn’t need another year of schooling.
But he’d pass easily. His teachers, like all the others, had taught only what the test would cover. And over the years the test questions had become so simplified and leading that Mahrree thought a sheep had a fair shot at passing it if only it could hold a quill to mark the ‘yes’ and ‘no’ boxes.
Besides, only the top ten percent of students would be offered the chance to go to a university, and that was her goal for Peto: to be something more than just another worker drone for the Administrators earning them more gold. The government didn’t want an intelligent population, just an obedient one. When too many people become independent thinkers, the elite has no more sway over them. You can’t manipulate people who know how to think for themselves. No wonder they did away with debating so many years ago.
Another few of her students were out on ‘farm need,’ but the notes they wrote for each other pretending to be each other’s fathers had far too many spelling mistakes to be believable.
But with fewer students today she hoped she might actually make some progress with her “special cases” since there were only a dozen in the room: the perfect size for a class.
Still, Mahrree struggled nearly as much as her students did to care, counting down the days—no, hours—until the Weeding Season break. She ploddingly wrote down dates on the slate board that no one, not even her, would feel the need to remember after the—
“Mrs. Shin, is this going to be on the End of Year test?”
Mahrree sighed. Oh to have a student ask just one truly interesting question! But those days were long gone, and the schools had bored out of children their natural desire to learn by age eight.