by Trish Mercer
“Mahrree, just a little slower,” Deck murmured as he marched next to her. “Jaytsy can’t keep up.”
Mahrree tried to slow down but her anger propelled her onward.
“I’ve got her, Deck,” Peto said on the other side of Mahrree. “Go help your wife.”
Mahrree cringed at the sound of his voice. So like Perrin’s. He’d be seventeen soon, but he was already acting like a man. He seemed to have aged a decade that evening.
“Don’t worry, Mother. This isn’t going to last.”
“You of all people should be happy about his becoming a general, Peto,” Mahrree said in a low snarl. “Then going to Idumea? Your grandfather would’ve been pleased. So why aren’t you?”
Peto sighed. “It’s not right. Relf wouldn’t have wanted this either, I know. I can’t explain it, but I won’t allow it. Nothing will happen to this family. We won’t go to Idumea, I promise you.”
Mahrree clutched his arm. “Thank you!” she whispered. “It’s all a lie, Peto. Nothing’s wrong with those lands. It’s a way to keep us all here, just like Querels’ servants.”
“I know,” Peto murmured. “I feel it too. Really, you need to slow down a little. Jaytsy’s going to be run over by the soldiers. I think she’s waddling on purpose.”
The soldiers maintained their quick step, but could go no faster than Jaytsy and Deckett. Several neighbors on their way home steered clear of the odd parade.
When they reached home Mahrree strode through her front gate, up the stairs to the door, flung it open, and waved to her three followers who quickly headed inside. She sent a stabbing glance to the soldiers and slammed the door shut.
Mahrree stomped to a chair at the table and sat down in it almost hard enough to splinter it. She stared at the stone wall trying to think, trying to understand what happened to Perrin . . . to their entire world. Everything was wrong.
In her fury she barely noticed her children exchanging anxious looks. Peto and Deck murmured together, and then Peto bounded up the stairs. Deck came over to the table and did something around the secret drawer. Peto came down a moment later, motioned to Deck, then darted into the kitchen with Deck right behind him.
Jaytsy kneeled in front of her mother, an admirable thing to do for a woman just two moons from birthing.
“Mother, I’m sure there’s an explanation for all of this,” she said as optimistically as she could, which was rather grim. “I’m sure Father will be home soon and, and . . .”
“And what?” Mahrree snapped. “What will come next?”
Jaytsy bit her lip and nervously glanced at the front door.
Mahrree sighed. “Oh, Jaytsy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Well, I did, but . . . I can’t think right now. Come here—you should be sitting, not me.” She got up and pulled Jaytsy on to the chair. Kneeling in front of her she said, “I promise you, I’ll not be going to Idumea. Neither will Peto. We’ve already decided: we’ll be here for you and Deck and the baby.”
“But Father—”
“—will do whatever he feels he must do, even if he thinks his duty is to defend this ridiculous development and deny everything we believe. He’s going to do it alone! I’ll not leave this house. Ever. Do you understand me?”
Jaytsy seemed as if she were about to burst into tears again, but she nodded. “Of course.”
Mahrree stood up and brushed down her skirt. “I need to do something. This house is too clean. We already ate, so there’s nothing to cook. I need to . . .” She looked around, wringing her restless hands.
The idea hit her so clearly she couldn’t imagine why she didn’t think of it before.
“Garden!” she clapped her hands. “It’s time that front garden was tended to!”
“Mother?” Jaytsy’s eyebrows rose.
“Yes, time to learn to weed. Deckett!” she called. “Tell me what tools I need to garden.”
Deck stuck his head out of the kitchen, startled. “Uh, well usually for your garden I would recommend . . .” But when he saw his wife frantically shaking her head he tried again. “You need a hand digger,” he said, knowing full well she didn’t have one. “It looks like a big fork—”
“Then I’ll get one!” Mahrree strode into the kitchen, pushing past Deck.
Peto was by the back door looking out the window. “Mother, I’m pretty certain there’s a soldier or two in the alley.”
Mahrree rummaged in a drawer until she found one of the good serving forks, taken from Hycymum’s house. “What do I care for soldiers?” She brandished the fork with fearsome glee and marched to the front door.
Her son and son-in-law watched from the kitchen, and Jaytsy shifted in her chair to observe her mother’s madness unfold.
Mahrree yanked open the door to the evening, began to take one step, but stopped.
The burly soldier blocking her way asked, “May I be of service?”
“You can get off my property. I didn’t ask for you to be here.”
“I’m here for your protection, Mrs. Shin.”
She wasn’t buying that. “Protect me from what?”
“Guarders, Mrs. Shin. Some have been sighted this evening. I’m here for your protection,” he repeated.
“Oh really?” Mahrree put her hands on her hips. “So why are there no banners up? No citizens running around terrified?” She gestured with the large sharp fork to the neighbors across the road talking in hushed tones to passers-by.
It wasn’t difficult to guess the topic at hand. They took one look at Mahrree wielding the oversized utensil and quickly made their way down the road.
“Tell me,” Mahrree squinted at the sergeant, a man whom she’d known for six years but who now seemed quite unfamiliar, “are you really here to defend the wife of the colonel,” she sighed in exasperation as she corrected herself, “the general, or is your duty something different entirely?”
“I’m here for your protection,” he recited, growing uneasy under the examination of Mrs. Shin.
“And I’m here to weed my garden,” she pushed past him.
“That’s your right,” he replied and remained at attention.
Mahrree looked around in the twilight at her patch of land. She didn’t even know where to start, so she found the biggest weed that she didn’t think was a tree in disguise. Kneeling in the dirt, she began to hack away with her fork. Every ounce of anger she poured into that unfortunate bit of hard ground, and it splintered and flaked, sending bits of gravel into the air. One of the tines of the fork bent when it hit a rock, but Mahrree kept pounding.
It was unexpectedly satisfying.
“I should have taken this up years ago!” she exclaimed, stabbing the dirt harder and harder as if she had to kill it, her hair flipping wildly, and sweat building on her forehead.
Eventually she paused. “At some point I’m to pull something out of the ground, aren’t I?” she asked the dirt. She glanced at the soldier, daring him to answer.
He shrewdly didn’t.
Vaguely aware of three pairs of eyes watching her from the open front door, she was about to speak to them when she heard a commotion down the road.
She scrambled to her feet, and her three children joined her.
Around the corner on the main fort road they appeared, at least twenty soldiers marching, with Captain Thorne and General Shin in the lead.
“In the house, NOW!” Mahrree ordered, but she didn’t need to. Already Peto was pulling her to the steps.
Jaytsy stood rigidly on the porch. “Father will stop for me—”
“I’m more worried about Thorne,” said Deck, and pulled her inside. He shut the door when everyone was in.
Mahrree planted herself back in her chair, her stomach twisting.
The soldiers? She had expected them to pay her a visit. Led by Captain Thorne? Naturally.
But the general?
What does this mean? What does this mean?
Deck escorted Jaytsy to the kitchen and ordered her to stay behind the door.
Mahrree gripped the armrests of her chair. How could Perrin do this to them? His family, running and hiding from him? How did everything go so wrong, so suddenly?
Peto rushed into the kitchen as well, and when Mahrree heard the clang of steel a moment later, she spun around and stared at her son.
He stood at the base of the staircase and regarded her with a mixture of sorrow and determination. Perrin’s old sword was in Peto’s hand, pointed down, but ready. Mahrree was sure he’d aged another half a dozen years in the last few minutes.
She clenched her teeth. Peto had never wanted to be an officer, yet tonight he held an officer’s weapon. It didn’t look right in his grip as he stood his ground a few feet in front of the kitchen door, which was opened a crack so that Jaytsy could peek through.
Mahrree nodded curtly at them. Had it really come to this? She remembered younger versions of her and Perrin sitting across from each other at that table, almost nineteen years ago. They had jokingly vowed to never kill each other.
She turned back around and realized that Deck had taken position by the fireplace a few feet from her. He stared intently at the front door and steadied his hold on Perrin’s long knife that he’d retrieved from the secret drawer in the table.
“Whatever happens, Deckett Briter,” she said to him, “you care for Jaytsy and Peto. Keep yourself out of this mess as much as possible so you can take care of them. Promise me!”
“Of course, Mahrree. Of course!” But his hand trembled.
The door swung open without a knock and Perrin—the General—strode in, followed by Captain Thorne and four more soldiers, including Sergeant Major Zenos, leaving the rest outside.
Shem’s eyes said nothing as he blankly gazed at Mahrree, his face as wooden as the general’s.
Mahrree nearly whimpered. Even Shem?
Oh how she detested those uniforms! They changed the wearers into soulless puppets, and that dark blue was like the sky just before a violent thunderstorm. One was brewing around her, and she was going to be the one who released it in her house—no one else.
Mahrree stood up with hatred so hot she thought she’d ignite as she faced the general. He better not assume he was sleeping here tonight!
“Mahrree Peto Shin—” General Shin began in that unfamiliar voice. He even wore those ludicrous black gloves General Thorne added to the generals’ uniforms. Last year Perrin had made fun of the skin-tight gloves. Now, he was just as ridiculous as all of them.
“Get out of my house, you son of a sow!” Mahrree shouted at the large blue body.
Captain Thorne flinched as if he’d been slapped.
The general merely raised one eyebrow at her use of the coarse phrase and repeated, “Mahrree Peto Shin—”
“I answer only Mahrree Peto!”
“Mahrree!” the general said abruptly and took a threatening step toward her.
Peto wielded the old sword and held it at the ready with surprising steadiness.
General Shin flicked him a glance before turning back to his wife. “I’m here to ask if you intend to continue to demand the resolutions of this evening be debated. I am here to ascertain if you will continue to refuse to accept the findings of this Administration.”
Mahrree nearly rolled her eyes. Now he even sounded like the Administrators, with their inability to say anything without a jumble of jargon. Try as she might, Mahrree couldn’t control her shaking. She thought she heard her daughter whimper and was aware that her son-in-law had stepped closer. There was only one response her conscience would allow her to speak.
“Yes! With my dying breath!”
Jaytsy clearly whimpered that time, but Mahrree couldn’t stop to think about her.
“I will defend the right for any one to question any thing. Each person has the right to find her own answers and believe as she wishes!”
The general’s gaze was so sharp she felt as if he was cutting straight through her, while the soldiers behind him fidgeted.
“General,” Captain Thorne said cagily. “You now know her mind—”
“Yes, I do. Thank you, Captain,” he intoned, not taking his eyes off of Mahrree.
“General!” Thorne said louder. “This is precisely the moment I’ve been trying to prepare you for—”
Shin’s hard glare turned abruptly to the captain.
Thorne’s mouth remained open, but no more words came out.
Shin shifted his stare back to his wife.
“And why are you now suddenly a general?” Mahrree demanded.
The general didn’t even blink. “Cush is dead. Messenger came this morning with the promotion, effective immediately. I’m to leave for Idumea as soon as possible. The Administrators have requested my presence to announce the new High General. And,” his dull cadence continued, “according to the aide of Administrator Genev, you, Mrs. Shin, are to join me. The Office of Loyalty demands your attendance.”
Deck gasped and he took another step closer to hold her arm, for which she was grateful, even though a minute before she told him to stay out of this.
So this was the end.
The end of everything. Of Edge, of her family. Everything.
“Captain, you and the others will wait outside,” the new general said icily, still focused on Mahrree. “I’ll handle this alone.”
“But—” Thorne started, but clamped his mouth shut when General Shin raised a hand, all the more intimidating sheathed in black.
Thorne turned to the door, and the soldiers filed out to leave the Shins’ staring match undisturbed.
“Now that I’m sure of your mind—” General Shin began, and with a swift movement that no one anticipated, he drew Relf’s sword.
Mahrree stiffened in shock as Jaytsy screamed.
“No!” Peto cried. “Not like this!” He charged his father.
General Shin threw Relf’s sword on the table, sidestepped Peto’s rush, caught his neck from behind with one hand, and deftly grabbed the blade his old sword with his other, without even nicking his gloves.
Peto fell to his knees gasping in pain from the powerful pinch his father delivered to his nerve, and released the hilt. With one smooth motion, the general flipped the sword in the air and caught it by the hilt.
Mahrree finally found her voice, and with it she screamed. The general had brandished the sword right across her chest, the point just inches away from Deck’s heart.
Deck froze in his rush to help Peto. The long knife was in his outstretched hand aimed at the general, several inches too short. A pitchfork would have been better tonight.
Jaytsy’s panicked sobs carried throughout the house as the family remained motionless in their positions.
When Mahrree thought of the incident later, she considered how impressed with Perrin’s power, speed, and skill she would’ve been had he not been simultaneously threatening to break her son’s neck and run through her daughter’s husband.
“Stand down, boy,” the general rumbled at Deck. He stared past the dull silver blade at his son-in-law, who trembled and knew he was clearly at a disadvantage.
“Deck, drop it!” Mahrree cried.
Reluctantly, he dropped the knife.
The general immediately dropped his old sword on top of it.
Mahrree stared at the blades, clattering on top of each other.
Wait a minute—
The general released Peto who, also perplexed, crumpled in a heap in front of his mother.
The general, with complete composure, removed his cap, placed it upside down on the table next to Relf’s gleaming sword which still vibrated, and began to peel off the dark dress gloves.
“As I was saying before I was interrupted,” the general began and glanced at his son who remained on the floor rubbing his neck, “now that I know your mind, Mahrree, the decision is obvious.”
He dropped the gloves into the cap and unbuttoned his jacket.
His family could only gape.
The general wrenched off his jacket an
d retrieved the long knife from the floor. “Captain!” he shouted. “Get in here.”
Mahrree stared in bewilderment as the general held up his jacket. The door flung open and Thorne rushed in, followed by Zenos and three other soldiers with their hands on the hilts of their swords.
“You are my witness, Captain Thorne,” said General Shin.
Mahrree finally found something to say. “What are you doing?”
Already he’d slipped the knife under the patch of the Administrators’ official mark and sliced cleanly through the stitching. It fell neatly on top of the gloves in the cap.
“General?” questioned the captain as he came up and stood next to Mahrree. His astonishment matched hers.
With two more quick slices the general released two more insignias.
Mahrree stared at one of the patches, with the sword imposed on top of a pine tree. For some inexplicable reason, it looked completely different to her, as if seeing it sideways in the cap suddenly gave it new meaning. The tiny sword was pointed to the mountains behind her.
Perrin yanked the new mountain lion pin from its position above his name badge, leaving a small tear in the woolen jacket, and dropped it into his cap. After tossing the knife on the table, where it clanked against Relf’s sword, he picked up the cap.
“You may inform General Thorne, Chairman Mal, and the Administrators that today, the 6th Day of Planting Season, I officially resigned from the army. This is the end . . . of my career.”
For Mahrree, the room seemed to have been turned abruptly on its side. She gripped the chair back to brace herself.
Peto put his head in his hands.
Deck sat down hard in Mahrree’s empty chair.
Jaytsy sobbed anew in the kitchen.
But Shem grinned.
The general had simply vanished and left Mr. Shin in his place.
Perrin handed his cap to the startled captain, nudging his hand to take it. “This will go down, no doubt, as the shortest tenure of a general in our history,” he smiled casually. “For your information, I’m keeping the jacket. My parents paid for that, and I earned those ribbons and medals. But the cap, well, I never liked it. As for the black dress gloves? Those are the worst idea after brass buttons and pins that look like mountain lions. Be sure to tell your father that. And gloves make it difficult to keep a secure hold of one’s sword. The insignias in the cap belong to the Administrators, as well as this sword. It’s a general’s sword, after all.” Perrin turned to retrieve it from the table and glanced at Peto before saying, “And it was the first thing I wanted to rid myself of.”