The Falcon in the Barn (Book 4 Forest at the Edge series)

by Trish Mercer

  “Perrin wasn’t the only injured falcon,” Mahrree’s chest began to heave. “It’s all of us, isn’t it? Just like Queruls’ servants, kept confined, all to be tormented by the cat . . .” Her voice grew louder. “It’s all of us. HERE! The truth is, if you let us leave the world, we leave the barn. But you can’t let us do that, because then there’ll be nothing left for the cats to torment—”

  Kori’s face paled and his eyes showed genuine worry. “Sir, will you do something about this woman?” he said loudly to his side.

  Mahrree barely registered what he said, her mind spinning and reeling. “No! You can’t keep us all trapped!”

  All of Edge was around her, and they deserved to know. The whole world had to be told the truth she’d finally found!

  “It’s all a lie!” Mahrree bellowed as she spun.

  But she found herself staring into a blue chest covered in medals and ribbons. It effectively muffled her words and stopped her cold.

  “General, it’s about time!” Kori exclaimed. “Will you escort this woman off the platform—immediately!”

  “Sit down,” said the uniform’s voice, thick and cold as a blizzard.

  Mahrree stood rooted in place, stunned to be looking directly at the general’s name patch.

  It didn’t say THORNE.

  It said SHIN.

  There was a pin—an outline of a prowling mountain lion—above the name patch that wasn’t there this morning when Perrin kissed her goodbye.

  The new symbol of the generals.

  General Perrin Shin.

  Had she been able to focus anywhere beyond the body in front of her, she would have thousands of gasps of “General Shin?”

  She might have heard her daughter whimpering, “Father, no! Deck, do something!”

  She may have even heard her son, as he shook his head, mumbling, “No. No, this isn’t right. No . . . Shem, where are you? This isn’t right . . .”

  But all she heard was, “Say no more and sit down, NOW!” The general ordered in a tone she’d never heard before.

  “Per—” she started, but she couldn’t finish. This wasn’t her husband. This man . . . who was he? Rage filled her, and she wasn’t about to move for him or anyone—

  The general put a firm hand on her shoulder, pivoted her bodily by pinching a nerve, and pushed her toward the stairs.

  The audience watched breathlessly.

  Mahrree fumed, angrily shrugged off his painful grip and marched back down the stairs, with the blizzard following her.

  This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong—

  She halted halfway down the steps, her breath catching.

  Captain Thorne stood at the bottom of the stairs with his sword drawn and ready.

  She couldn’t even think a prayer.

  “Mrs. Shin,” Thorne sneered. “I’ll see you to your seat.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said the cold voice behind her.

  Momentarily Mahrree was trapped, but quickly decided that she wanted to get away from the uniform behind her more than she wanted to avoid the one before her. She marched defiantly down the stairs, pushed past Captain Thorne and walked to her row, the captain following close behind.

  Every Edger watched her in shocked silence, and this time no one impeded her progress to her spot in the middle of the row.

  Captain Thorne remained in the center aisle, his sword still drawn and his glare focused on Mahrree, while General Shin strode back up the podium stairs to stand by Kori.

  This is wrong, this is wrong! Mahrree’s mind screamed as she sat down hard, her eyes shooting daggers at the general who didn’t defend her but instead ordered her to sit down.

  Jaytsy and Peto each gripped her arms to keep her in place.

  General Shin stood slightly in front of Kori, as if to shield him, and Mahrree felt a wave of nausea to accompany her anger.

  She’d seen him do that before once, years ago. It was their fifth debate, and he stood in front of her to shield her from the rowdy crowd.

  Now he shielded the Administrators.

  Perrin was gone, nowhere in that large body, those dark empty eyes, or that emotionless face at the front of the podium. The general was fully in command.

  Kori, with a tight and triumphant smile, addressed the astonished audience. “Documents detailing the findings of the expedition, our understanding of the origins of the ruins, and an explanation about the so-called ‘Creator’ will be available for each family to review. We’ll be distributing them outside the amphitheater.”

  Several soldiers retrieved the bags of papers from the platform that were obviously not maps, and headed for the exits.

  Mahrree continued to stare at the general, oblivious to her daughter’s silent weeping or her son’s head shaking. Her son-in-law, with his arm around his wife, looked at each member of the family trying to sort out what he could do.

  And the general stared out at the crowd.

  Kori continued. “We’re still looking at alternatives to expanding our lands to accommodate the desire for increased living space. But no one will ever be going to Terryp’s land. This is all. You may now return home.”

  It wasn’t a suggestion, but no one seemed to be able to move.

  Until General Shin shifted his stance slightly, and that was all that was needed.

  As one body, the crowd nervously came to their feet and obediently began to file out. But the air was thick with heated tension and unspoken frustration.

  Mahrree refused to budge, even though her children had released her. All she could do was stare at the platform where all thought had died. And her marriage.

  Earlier that day she had decided that the 6th Day of Planting Season would be a significant date. But, she remembered now, it already was. It was nineteen years ago that she’d first stepped on to the platform to take on the new captain to debate the color of the sky. That sky was now completely black.

  And tonight, that same man whom she thought had only improved in stature, rank, and the amount of gray speckling his black hair, forced her off the platform.

  She was really beginning to hate Planting Season.

  Mahrree heard the quiet sobbing next to her. She barely had enough control to look askance.

  Jaytsy was shaking as Deck held her. Down the row at the center aisle Captain Thorne still stood about twenty paces away, sword at the ready, and studying Jaytsy intently. Peto got up, walked past Jaytsy and Deckett, and stood in front of them to block Thorne’s view.

  Thorne glared at him.

  Peto firmed his stance and folded his arms.

  Mahrree blinked back the first tears that stung her eyes. Peto stood in the same way his father had. He was now the shield, the very best of the men Mahrree loved most.

  Had loved.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Jaytsy whimpered. “Did you see his face? Deck, he can’t be general now! He’s supposed to be here and be the grandpy! They can’t go to Idumea!”

  Deck kissed her forehead as he cradled her. “Just don’t worry about it right now. We’ll figure all of this out later. This was just . . . don’t worry, Jayts.”

  Peto turned slightly to his family. “It’s not right,” he whispered fiercely. “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen. I can feel it. Don’t worry Jayts. It’s not going to happen!”

  “It already has,” Mahrree said dully. “Everything we believe and cherish has just been declared to be a made-up story. And the defender of the so-called truth is General Perrin Shin. Dear Creator—who I still believe in—how did we get here?”

  None of her children knew how to answer her.

  Peto, still facing Thorne who was now motioning for another soldier to join him, searched the quickly exiting crowd. “Where’s Shem? He always shows up . . .”

  Deck looked around as well. “I think we could all use a little Shem right now.”

  “He won’t be here,” Jaytsy whimpered. “If Thorne’s here—” she whispered his name, “—then Shem would
be left in charge of the fort. He doesn’t know anything that’s happened!”

  Deck spied a dozen soldiers gradually converging around them. “Mahrree, I think you’ve made a few people uncomfortable.”

  “That’s why the Creator gave me this mouth and put me in this world!” Mahrree fumed. “Making people comfortable is the work of the Refuser!”

  Peto pivoted again to place himself directly between Thorne and his family.

  The captain, finished with the soldier who rushed off, turned back to Peto with an ugly smile.

  But Mahrree gazed only on the platform and sat defiant and firm. General Shin was speaking to a man in a red suit who gestured toward Mahrree. The general nodded, then, without even so much as a glance to his family, strode to the back of the platform.

  Mahrree felt the need to hit someone. Preferably someone in a uniform.

  ---

  General Shin trotted down the stairs, doing his best to ignore the oak tree. The one she kicked nineteen years ago. The one he tried to remove. The one he recently promised to sneak her back to some evening and . . .

  But the oak loomed in front of him, refusing to be ignored. Still, he gave it only passing notice.

  He marched behind the amphitheater, scattering the citizens who were dutifully waiting in line for their documents. The general was like an inverse tornado, creating a large perimeter around him no one wanted to be near.

  The same words ran through his mind, over and over, as he plowed through the green. Genev’s assistant had been very clear, telling him what needed to be done with someone like Mrs. Shin.

  Years ago Hogal Densal had cautioned his nephew about her, that she had the potential to become something quite menacing. For years he’d ignored the warning, or chuckled about that evaluation.

  But there was nothing funny about her outburst tonight. She’d fulfilled her destiny.

  General Shin felt the words in every step he took.

  Most dangerous woman in the world?

  This is the end.

  Chapter 31 ~ “It’s time that front garden was tended to!”

  The middle-aged woman sat stunned on the front row. She could hardly bring herself to move, but that’s not how she felt initially.

  Just fifteen minutes before she’d been anxiously squirming, eager to bolt out of the amphitheater and tell everyone what they were saying.

  But she couldn’t, because then she would have missed everything else. She had a duty to perform.

  Her main obligation had been to be a midwife for the colonel’s daughter, and she’d met the young mother-to-be last week. But she also had another duty should the opportunity arise: be a reporter.

  Oh they had trained her and all, certainly not anticipating she’d ever actually use that training. They expected her to be in Edge for three moons at the most, until all seemed well with Mrs. Briter and her baby. But things come up, and just in case something interesting occurred, she could report a few things back to them as well.

  But Mrs. Braxhicks was sure no one expected anything like this!

  She certainly didn’t when she heard the buzz in the village about the mandatory meeting and the rumor that there was news about Terryp’s land. Mrs. Braxhicks knew she had to be there, front and center, to make a report later to her husband and the others in the woods, in case Shem Zenos couldn’t.

  But even though she got there an hour early front and center was already taken, and she had to be satisfied with front and behind the speakers a bit on the backward curve of the amphitheater. At first she was quite put out with that arrangement, until she realized it put her—providentially, as that boorish Idumean had sneered—in a position to watch Mrs. Shin. She knew her ability to read lips would come in handy, although she could still hear Mrs. Shin’s murmuring at the end.

  At first she didn’t know who this remarkably brave yet stupid woman was who leaped to her feet. Before she could ask anyone around her, the audience was tittering, “Mrs. Shin? What’s Mrs. Shin doing?”

  That’s when Mrs. Braxhicks sat up even taller, trying to see over the platform to watch the small woman’s attempted debate. When Mrs. Shin began up the stairs, Mrs. Braxhicks found her fists clenched by her face in dread and worry, but also in pride for the woman. Then, as she faced Mr. Kori, something astonishing rushed across Mrs. Shin’s face. Mrs. Braxhicks noticed, probably as well as General Shin did: the sudden change of expression, the widening of the eyes as she began to murmur, and then she said the words that made Mrs. Braxhicks’s mouth drop open.

  “Just like Queruls’ servants . . .”

  How in the world did Mrs. Shin know about Queruls’ servants?!

  A moment later she realized, of course, how ridiculous to not remember, that her grandfather-in-law was the man who freed them. But wasn’t all of that meant to be kept secret?

  Then Mrs. Shin started on about the barn, and falcons, and everyone being trapped . . . and that’s when Mrs. Braxhicks knew everything was about to change.

  In a way she was glad it was Mrs. Shin who stood up, because Mrs. Braxhicks was so irate that she was about to leap to her own feet, although she knew that would have been the very worst thing in the world for her to do. Many years ago her aunt, a midwife in Idumea, had dared to speak up, then found herself being questioned by Administrator Gadiman himself, and so she made a mad dash for the seclusion of the trees. Several moons later the Administrator of Family Life released a study explaining how having more than two children made a woman insane, and it would have been laughable if it hadn’t been so finite. There was a lot of speculation about how much her aunt had influenced the creation of that study, and several debates as to whether things had gone too far, but Hifadhi had put an end to all of that by saying that what was done, was done, and all that anyone could do moving forward was to remain very quiet and very anonymous.

  Shem Zenos had failed at that, miserably, but many others maintained a subtle presence. Mrs. Braxhicks knew her position was only temporary, and surely she could maintain a low profile for just a few moons, couldn’t she?

  So she watched in morbid fascination as Mrs. Shin finally—finally—recognized the truth, only to have her husband stand in her way.

  That’s when Mrs. Braxhicks’ mouth hung open so far she didn’t know if she could ever shut it again. Something was very wrong. Colonel Shin was suddenly General Shin, and while in one way that was likely right, it was also very, very wrong.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, was it?

  A part of her began to panic that maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t end the way it was supposed to.

  Then Mrs. Shin was forced back to her bench, where she still sat now being watched over that nasty Thorne, and General Shin huffed off the platform with such fury that Mrs. Braxhicks shrank back a bit in worry, just in case his determined glare happened to shift over to her as he headed down the back stairs. Fortunately he seemed to be lost in his own swirling thoughts, and Mrs. Braxhicks was finally able to make her legs stand up and work her way around to the front of the platform.

  While nearly everyone else had hurried out in a dismayed hum, a few villagers lingered, making their ways to the exits to pick up their copies of the dubiously fascinating findings, but also trying to see what would happen to Mrs. Shin and her children sitting restlessly next to her.

  Mrs. Braxhicks knew she was doing the same thing, but she had a purpose besides simply being a nosy neighbor. She wanted to catch their eyes—at least poor Jaytsy Briter’s, who seemed to be nearly hysterical—and she wanted to somehow communicate that she . . .

  Well, what would she say to them if she had the opportunity? She hadn’t been trained that thoroughly. Her additional responsibility—should it come up—was only to report. Not to contact, not to speak, not to interfere. That was most important—don’t interfere.

  Mrs. Braxhicks sighed, knowing there was nothing else she could do except pick up a copy or two of the findings and deliver them to her husband and the others in the trees,
then go about her business as midwife to Mrs. Briter and the other two future mothers she found in Edge looking for someone a little more experienced than what Idumea was sending around.

  She tried one more time to make eye contact with any of the Shins or Briters, but felt distinctly this was beyond her ability. Increasingly anxious, she picked up her pace to bustle out of the amphitheater.

  ---

  The amphitheater was emptying rapidly, with no villagers daring to look at the Shin family. That was fine with Mahrree. Anyone whose eyes she met would most likely have burst into flame. She continued to stare at the now-empty platform, waiting for every last person to leave before she’d finally stand up.

  That’s when she heard Peto say, “No, that’s all right. I’ll see that she reaches home safely.”

  Mahrree shifted her glare to the four soldiers now surrounding her family.

  Deck stood up quickly. “Thank you, but we can take care of her. Come, Mahrree.”

  With surprising gumption Deck took his mother-in-law’s arm and pulled her up. Peto quickly took the other side and Jaytsy tried not to wobble to her feet.

  “Dessert must be ready, don’t you think, Mother?” she asked in forced brightness, wiping tears off her face.

  Mahrree went along only because she didn’t want her children see her fight off four soldiers. At least, that’s what she told herself.

  They left the amphitheater and walked across the green in quiet dread through crowds that instantly silenced when they saw them. Despite Deck and Peto’s assurances, the four soldiers followed several paces behind.

  Mahrree’s thoughts reeled. He once called me a traitor, she remembered. Years ago, right after Peto was born, and she told him she wanted more children. But he had traitorous thoughts as well, in Idumea. Had he forgotten that? Has he forgotten everything except that ridiculous title? That must be what power does to a man: erases what he knows and makes him remember only what services him at the moment. Why didn’t he speak up? He knew the truth as well as she did. Together they could have changed things! If only he would have said something!