by Trish Mercer
Thorne stepped aside and pivoted to see where the noise came from.
Mahrree bit her lip nervously. “If this isn’t a good time—”
“No, it isn’t!” Thorne snapped at her. “The colonel is so exceptionally busy that—”
“He can spare five minutes for his wife, Captain! You are dismissed.”
If a look could draw down thunder from a clear blue sky, that one from Thorne would have rattled the entire village. His jaw worked back and forth for a moment before he turned to Mahrree with an expression that startled Perrin. Why Lemuel regarded innocent, sweet Mahrree Shin with such animosity, Perrin couldn’t understand.
But he would never forget it.
With a quiet growl, Thorne turned on his heel and thumped loudly down the stairs.
Mahrree exhaled and looked at her husband with wide eyes. “What was that all about?”
He gestured for her to shut the door. When she did so, he said quietly, “I’m sure the soldiers in the outer office are wondering the same thing.”
“You’re right—he really has turned rancid. Mushroom pudding is now more lethal than that blob I grew many years ago.”
She went to sit on a chair, but her husband shook his head and pointed to his lap.
She giggled softly. “What if someone caught us doing this?” she asked as she made herself comfortable.
“My chair. I get to do whatever I want on it. If I don’t want to be disturbed, I just don’t say ‘Come in’,” and he kissed her.
“By the way,” he mumbled after a while, “why did you come by?”
“Just to see if a grandpy can kiss as good as my husband,” she murmured back. “I suppose he can . . .”
Perrin groaned and pulled away. “Not Grandpy! Anything but that.”
Mahrree giggled again and snuggled into his neck. “Actually, I just came by to tell you the estimate for the burst piping under the house. The pipe maker said it will be close to forty slips of silver, depending on how much he has to replace. He can get working on it this afternoon.”
Perrin sighed. “Do we really need water?”
“Yes. And even more, we need the waste water piped away from the house to the waste canals.”
“I suppose we do. Tell him to go ahead. And then see if Peto wants to be apprenticed to him. Forty slips of silver? Now that’s a profitable career.”
Mahrree kissed him again and got off his lap. “I think my five minutes are up.”
“Oh, if only it were ten,” he said with a suggestive eyebrow waggle, and held his hands out at the long, wide desk.
Mahrree blushed. “Then you could never again look at your desk without smirking. Try explaining that to Captain Thorne.”
“You’re probably right,” he chuckled. “And Thorne can’t seem to understand anything anymore.”
---
Lemuel Thorne huffed across the compound to the western gates where he watched the three villagers argue their way to Edge. Where they were going, the captain didn’t know or care. But if any violence ensued, it would be the colonel’s fault. Yet he wouldn’t realize that. Colonel Shin was so blinded he saw nothing clearly anymore.
She’d done it again! Showed up unscheduled, looked at her husband with kitten-eyes, and he melted into a puddle of uselessness. The control she had over him was astonishing. On many occasions Thorne wanted to bring the poor colonel’s attention to the fact that he was being manipulated, but he knew the timing wasn’t right.
Until then, the file on the egregious behavior of his wife was thickening every week, and within another season or two, the pile of evidence would be overwhelming.
Then Colonel Shin would see.
So would Administrator Genev.
And then the whole world.
And it would be Lemuel Thorne who delivered the world’s greatest traitor to Idumea.
That had to be a one way trip to becoming High General.
---
That evening after dinner Mahrree remembered the bag of pits. When she gave them to Peto he actually scowled at the contents.
“What’s this supposed to mean?”
Mahrree shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe Yung thought you’d like to plant a few? But not near the trenches where the pipers are digging, apparently,” she added, a bit mystified.
Peto’s fist clamped around the bag. “But what does this mean?”
Yung tied up meanings around everything, so much so that Peto now looked at innocuous objects and thought, How would Rector Yung turn this into a Holy Day lesson? He didn’t know if he should be alarmed or impressed that he came up with a couple of sermons related to the dung wagon that he passed on his way home.
And now he’d been given peach pits.
As a rector, Yung was the equivalent of Hycymum Peto as a cook: a steak wasn’t just for eating; it was for spicing and presenting into something far more than you expected it should be.
It was the same with everything that Rector Yung handed you; it always had another layer. That old peach orchard he helped Yung revive last year wasn’t just about peaches; it was to teach Peto about rescuing his father, although Peto was sure he missed a few key points here and there. Anyway, they worked hard, brought back the orchard that no one had much hope for, and got a handful of good peaches, then Perrin Shin was better and this harvest they gathered several baskets full which Yung gave away for free at the market, annoying the fruit sellers, and now Yung was giving him . . . the pits.
There was a meaning in there, somewhere.
Mahrree watched as her son studied the pits with too much worry. “All he said was that you’d know what to do with them.”
He closed his fist over the bag. “But how do I know what to do with them?” he said enigmatically, and a bit annoyed, as he trudged off to his bedroom
.
Chapter 29 ~ “They’re back! The expedition!”
Something Jaytsy had to learn during the past Raining Season was a new sense of balance: in walking, in sleeping, and in negotiating the ladders in the barns. And now that it was the 2nd Day of Planting Season of the new year 338, she was determined to master the skill of getting down and up again out of the dirt. Her expanding belly always led the way, often into ways she didn’t want to go.
Although her mother insisted, along with the new midwife from Orchards, that she was not large for an expecting woman, Jaytsy felt positively enormous. Her brother gasping dramatically at her profile and holding his mouth in mock horror whenever he saw her didn’t help. And when her father told her, thinking that he was helpful, to wait for another two moons to see just how large she could get before she birthed the baby, she was nearly in tears.
Only Deck, when he kissed her belly and sighed in pleasure, could convince her it really was beautiful.
Her greatest amusement, though, was Shem. The baby always seemed to be the most active when he visited, and whenever Jaytsy put his hand on her belly to feel it kicking and rolling, Great-Uncle-to-be Shem always teared up.
Perrin had given him a new name: Crybaby.
Shem deserved it for calling him Grandpy.
When Planting Season arrived Jaytsy was determined to get in as much of this year’s crops in as she could before the baby came. She knew she’d be of little use from the middle to the end of the season, except to sit under a tree nursing the newborn and cheering on her husband. Although Deck told her to not worry—Perrin already had soldiers lined up to help—Jaytsy still felt a duty to their farm.
That’s why her mother found her one morning in the middle of a field crawling along the cold damp dirt and dropping peas.
“Jaytsy! You’ll ruin your back that way,” her mother called as she trotted up the row. “Let me do that for you.”
Jaytsy shook her head. “No, Mother. If you plant these seeds upside down, we’ll only have roots coming up and we’ll have to dig in the ground to extract the peas.”
Mahrree narrowed her eyes at Jaytsy. “You said that was true only of the bulbs.”
Mahrree smiled. “Not about everything, I know. But I do know this: if hurt your back now, birthing will be that much harder.”
“I feel wonderful, Mother,” she said, continuing to drop the shriveled peas. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t. It makes me feel better, anyway, contributing to the farm.”
“Oh, you contribute plenty. You’ll be contributing a new farm hand soon! Come now. Teach me what to do.” Mahrree kneeled down in a row next to her. “I’ve got this week off of school, so I best start being useful.”
“You seriously want to do this, Mother? Get dirt on your hands?”
“Of course,” Mahrree said cheerily, but Jaytsy recognized The Dinner smile.
“How about you go gather the eggs instead? That’s harder for me to do, bending down and rooting through the straw.”
“Are you sure? I really want to help you—”
“Then gather the eggs! The fort cook will be down for them by midday meal, and Deck’s busy checking on the cows. Looks like a few of them will be birthing at the same time I am.”
Mahrree chuckled. “Poor Deckett. Life’s just bursting out all around him, isn’t it?”
Jaytsy pushed up on to her knees. “Remember how almost two years ago I complained about how many people had died around us? And now, well . . .” her voice wavered. She’d gone all Raining Season without crying, but now that she was getting closer to the baby coming, the tears were closer as well.
Her mother smiled sympathetically. “I know exactly what you mean. When the Briters passed away, I never would have imagined that almost two years later you’d be planting their fields while carrying their grandchild.”
“All right, now stop!” Jaytsy said, wiping away a tear and laughing. “I’m a bit overemotional as it is, I don’t need you adding to it. Get the eggs.”
“Your farm, you’re in charge.” Mahrree got to her feet, looking relieved. A movement down the field caught her eye. “Perrin?”
Jaytsy turned as well. Her father was running toward them awkwardly, trying to keep within the long rows.
“Perrin! What’s wrong?” Mahrree called to him.
“They’re back! The expedition!” he panted and stopped in front of them.
“And?” Mahrree nearly screamed.
“I don’t know! They were sighted south of Moorland on a fast pace to Idumea. Some of the soldiers I sent to check on the ruins saw them passing.”
Mahrree stomped her foot. “They didn’t find out anything from them?”
Perrin smiled. “That’s exactly what I yelled at them. Apparently they have news about Terryp’s land and they’re in a hurry to deliver it.”
“So what might that mean?” Jaytsy asked, struggling to get up.
Her father scooped her up and placed her on her feet. “Still not as heavy as your mother was. You have time,” he assured her. “What does it mean? I really don’t know. I have half a mind to catch up to them to find out.”
“So go!” Mahrree said. “Saddle up and catch up to them!”
Perrin shook his head. “They’re miles away by now. Even with Clark the only way I could catch them would be to get horses from the messenger stations, and I have a feeling those poor men have very long memories.”
Mahrree squirmed. “Then I’ll go! I’m light enough.”
Her daughter and husband burst out laughing.
“Fine, fine,” Mahrree sighed, trying to hide her smile. “We’ll send Peto.”
Perrin pushed a stray lock of hair off her face. “Mahrree, we just have to be patient. I’m sure there’ll be news soon. The only reason I can imagine for them moving in such a hurry is to deliver their news to the Administrators quickly. If it were bad news, they’d be taking their time, right?”
“You may have a point. I’ll bet that’s the real reason The Dinner was postponed. Not because Cush is still ill but because they want to turn The Dinner in some grand celebration about what they found in Terryp’s land.”
“Give them three or four days. Then we’ll know something, I’m sure.”
“Three or four days? Perrin, I don’t know if I can handle waiting that long!”
“You’ve waited nearly a year, you can wait some more.”
---
Knock-knock . . . knock-knock-knock.
The knocking was even in his dreams, the ones he still occasionally had. He knew he’d never fully be rid of the images, but at least now he could control them, even continue sleeping through them once he ordered them away. Always the same thing happened; the Guarders returned, streaming toward his house in massive numbers.
But they always stopped and knocked on the door.
Five times.
Thorne’s knock.
Perrin rubbed his eyes and looked up as if he could see through the ceiling and to the seat of the Creator.
“How much longer do I get the privilege of being his commander?” he whispered to the cosmos. “Just so I know? I’m not complaining, I’m just curious.”
When no answer came, Perrin sighed and said, “Come in.”
“Just wondering if you heard the news, Colonel?” Thorne swung open the door. “That the expedition was sighted?”
“I heard, Captain. And how’s your grandfather?”
Thorne shrugged. “You know as much as I do, sir. Still ailing. That’s why they’ve postponed The Dinner.”
Perrin nodded once. “Anything else, Thorne?”
“Did you look over my proposal for the new training regime? I really don’t see any need to continue Zenos’s late night forest tours, since the Guarders are obviously gone—”
Perrin sat back and folded his hands in his lap. “As much as I want to believe that, I’ve realized that I can’t. Because how many times over the past 137 years have the Guarders been ‘gone’?”
Thorne furrowed his eyebrows. “Sir?”
“How many times, Captain? How often did we think they had retreated to wherever they live, or quit their attacks, only to show up again one day raiding an unsuspecting village?”
Thorne pursed his lips. “Many times, I suppose.”
“Nineteen,” Perrin said. “I counted once. If they did it nineteen times, they’ll likely do it twenty. I won’t be the village that’s ‘unsuspecting.’ We’ll continue Zenos’s training, which has been the best the world has ever seen, and if I choose to implement changes, I’ll be sure to let Zenos—and you—know about it.”
Uncharacteristically, Thorne took a step closer to the desk. “Sir, I think you’re making a mistake. Perhaps your judgment has been hampered by influences in your past, and if you’d only listen—”
Perrin was holding up his hand, and Thorne was staring at it, finding himself suddenly tongue-tied.
“Let me get this straight,” he said coldly. “I’ve been hampered by influences in my past? My judgment is impaired?”
Thorne didn’t shrink back or even look apologetic. “One of my duties as your second in command is to tell you what you may not want to hear—”
“Since when?”
“Since always, Colonel!” Thorne snapped. “Some commanders refer to their second in command as their ‘second minds’! And I’m advising you now, as I’m supposed to, that you’re clinging to the old ways because you’re comfortable with them. But the world is changing, Colonel. And we must change with it, or be devoured by it. I agree that the Guarders may return, but they’ll find a new way to make their presence known. We must be prepared for different contingencies.”
That Perrin controlled of his fury for so long truly impressed him. He wished Mahrree had been there to see this. “Thorne, I read your proposal,” he said between his gritted teeth. “I agree with you that when the Guarders return it’ll likely be in a way none of us expect. However, your suggestion to train soldiers in confronting citizens, patting them down for weapons, and escorting them back to the
ir homes for additional inspections makes you sound more paranoid than I was at my very worst!”
“Paranoid?” hissed Thorne. He was exceptionally brave today.
Perrin was beginning to be impressed and astonished.
He really hated that.
“Sir, paranoia is what makes a great leader!” Thorne declared, leaning on the desk. “Never fully trusting your subordinates, never fully believing your enlisted men, and never fully having faith in those who claim to love you. One of the many things I’ve learned from you is that a bit of cynicism is most healthy for the life of a commander, Colonel!”
“Well then,” Perrin said with his own piercing glare, “you seem to have become very healthy in the past few seasons, haven’t you? I can’t help but wonder, why?”
“I’m simply maturing, sir,” Thorne said, standing up and straightening his jacket.
Perrin wondered if the captain had blinked at all in the past five minutes.
“The longer I serve, the more I see, and the more I recognize how blinded people can be. It’s my duty to remove those dark coverings that keep men like you from seeing the truth!”
“And what makes you so sure you know the truth, Captain?” Perrin challenged.
“I know how to see, sir. I have no claims of affection or emotion that cloud my perceptions of the truth.”
“Fascinating,” Perrin said. “Several times you’ve mentioned love, affection and the like as if those are bad things. As if you believe they—”
“Destroy one’s ability to see the truth, yes!” Thorne insisted.
“My, my,” said Perrin, slightly amused. “Not only have you become healthier, you’ve become more obnoxious.”
Thorne stood taller. “Someday you’ll understand, sir. You’ll see that I’m doing this for you. You will be impressed. And astonished. And then, you’ll wonder what to do next. When that day comes, realize that I’m here to guide you. I’m here for you, Colonel Shin.” He nodded once and left the office.