by Trish Mercer
She could barely breathe, until she burst out with, “Why did you never tell me you had this before? It’s been in our house?! All this time? Perrin, TERRYP was in MY HOUSE!”
He put a finger on her lips and laughed lightly. “Shh! I wanted to tell you,” he whispered, “but do you remember our second anniversary?”
How could either of them forget the night she told him she wanted two more children, and he turned into the rabid dog of the Administrators? “Oh, yes. Most definitely.”
“Do you remember how that night I stayed up working on numbers and maps?”
“Yes, I came down and . . . wait a minute. You knew I knew?”
He smiled. “I know everything, Mahrree. This was even on our table at the time. I’m sure you touched it, but you didn’t realize it because it was too dark. That previous evening on the blanket in our front garden I understood something about you that Hogal had warned me about. I even wrote it down, and later burned it so you and no one else would ever see it.”
Mahrree blinked at him. “What did Hogal say? What did you write?”
“That you are the most dangerous woman in the world. Think back to your state of mind then. What if you knew I had these maps?”
Mahrree threw her hands up in the air. “I would have insisted we go . . . oh. Oh, I see.” She bit her lip. “Hmm. Could have been a problem, huh?” Too many ideas ran through her head of what she would have done had she known Terryp’s map was in her home for all those years.
Until she remembered . . . “You and Hogal really thought I was the most dangerous woman in the world?”
“Absolutely. In fact, you recently solidified your claim to the title. The truth is dangerous. Especially shouted in front thousands of people.”
She looked back at the map. “Oh, Perrin—it’s amazing! But I really think I could have kept quiet about it.”
His laughter startled her. “You? Keep quiet?”
She bit her lip. “I guess the evidence to the contrary is rather overwhelming, isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he grinned and kissed her. “Take a look and tell me where you want to go first!”
She laughed a sigh. There, in amazing detail on the small parchment, was all anyone could ever hope for. A narrow passage of land between the desert and the mountain range opened to a vast valley area. The distance to the valley was barely two miles through the desert, easily traversed.
To the north was the same mountain range that sat beyond them in Edge, and to the south was a large open plain where remnants of a massive city, larger than Idumea, once existed. Beyond it, to the west, south, and east where the desert ended were vast fields, grasses, trees, rivers—everything a civilization could need.
Mahrree’s eye was drawn to the north again. The mountain range ended two-thirds of the way, leaving a large opening in the northwest. Terryp had merely put a question mark there. The land Terryp outlined was enormous, several times larger than their world.
“It seems Terryp didn’t explore most of this land to the south,” Perrin gestured to the map. “But according to this scale, it’s hundreds of miles, so no surprise there. The dotted line around the perimeter of the ruins is where he personally explored. The dashes further out are as far as the scouts went. The rest of the map comes from the records made at the carvings. The southern sea doesn’t even show up for another three hundred miles. There’s no border to the west—no end in sight! And right here,” Perrin said, pointing to the mountains in the northeast where the question mark stood, “when I made the copy, I put mountains all along the top.”
“Why?” Mahrree asked, still astonished her husband was the unknown copier she had wanted so desperately to meet.
And Terryp’s map was in her home, all these years.
Right under her nose was the truth and evidence she had craved for all of her life. She just never knew where to look.
“Because I wanted the expedition to discover it,” Perrin explained. “I knew they’d be terrified to go out knowing the mountains actually ended somewhere. I hoped they’d be intrigued by the gap they’d find and follow it. Instead they all turned and ran for home instead. Can you imagine? Half of them were soldiers, and they were cowards!” He shook his head in disgust.
“So this is your plan?” Mahrree whispered.
“Yes! Mahrree, let me take you away from Edge, from all the world! Let’s go prove that Terryp’s land is safe. Then let’s go beyond it, to the northwest. What happens where the mountains end? What a fantastic adventure for Peto! We can do this!”
The ruins! Terryp! Her childhood hero, his map underneath her fingers, his lands begging to be rediscovered. She could do this for him. Prove what he wasn’t allowed to do. They could do this together—
No. No!
No, they couldn’t.
Mahrree let out a small moan. Perrin’s face was so hopeful that she dreaded what she had to say next.
“Oh Perrin, we have a grandbaby coming in just a moons’ time. That’s what we can do—be grandparents. We can’t go now.”
“I know, I know!” he gripped her arm. “And that’s what I want too. But Mahrree, we can do both! We don’t go until the baby’s born and Jaytsy’s rested up, maybe early Weeding Season. I’ll need that long to gather supplies and plan properly. Since the soldiers no longer care about us, it’ll be easier. We can use Deck’s barn to hold everything. There’s room in the rafters to hide it all, I’ve already measured. We’ll secure a few horses and I’m sure Shem will find a way to bring us Clark. Then we’ll vanish, like Yordin’s grandparents. Maybe that’s what they did! We can take a packhorse laden with paper and ink just for you to record everything. Peto and I can scout the area while you sit at the ruins playing Terryp and copying everything he did. You’ll have to learn to ride a horse, but we can do that in the next few weeks.
“Mahrree,” he said, his face glowing with anticipation, “as much as I hate to leave Jaytsy and Deckett, we can’t sit here and mope. We’ll be back before the baby’s a year old. We can’t let Peto continue like this, Mahrree. Think of the adventure! Think of everything we can bring back! We can change the world!”
He was shaking her arms with so much zeal that she wasn’t surprised later to see small bruises there. He released her arms and rubbed them apologetically.
More calmly, he said, “Just think about it, all right?”
She gazed again at the map and tenderly ran a finger across some of Terryp’s words written in tiny letters to conserve space. The words “potential farmlands” refused to be wiped off.
“Oh Perrin, I’m thinking about it! In fact, I’ve been thinking about it my whole life.”
It took them hours to settle down that night. Mahrree kept Perrin’s larger planning map on the desk in their bedroom, frequently jumping out of bed to check it and ask him questions. He never opened his eyes but grinned as he mumbled, “Uh-huh. Sure. We could try that too. Add it to the list.” Mahrree went so far as to plan out what clothing she’d take and how she’d cook on the journey before the fatigue of the day overwhelmed her.
After she finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, she dreamed again of a large house filled with noisy children.
Terryp was sitting in the corner reading a story to some of them.
---
Two men sat in the dark office of an unlit building.
“I must confess,” said Mal to his companion, “this new scenario is turning out to be more rewarding than I initially anticipated. You’ve redeemed yourself.”
Genev nodded once, greatly relieved. “You’ll not be disappointed, sir. I promise you that.”
“I don’t think I will be. I believe you can pull this off. To get the measures passed through the Administrators was quite a feat in itself. Now time is of the essence. I expect nothing else but to be completely impressed with your next efforts.”
“You will be, sir,” Genev said, “I’m personally going to see to everything.”
“
You do that. And if your efforts do not impress me, do as your predecessor—don’t bother coming back.”
Chapter 36 ~ “I intend for this to be the most enlightening day of my life.”
The next morning Mahrree sat on the front steps and gazed at her patch of rocky gray ground, wondering when the first blades of whatever might come up, and if she’d be there to see them fully ripen. Or bloom. Or whatever they would do.
Actually, she was wondered if anything could replace in her mind the fantastical idea of leaving the world.
There was no real reason not to go. If they left, surely Edge would warm back up to Jaytsy and Deck again, and everything would return to normal.
Even Shem could benefit by moving into their home. And should he be threatened with a transfer—which seemed inevitable as long as Thorne was in charge—he’d already have a place to live, he could resign just like Perrin, then start building houses. Jaytsy and Deck would be fine as long as they still had their Uncle Shem.
Then Perrin, Mahrree, and Peto would eventually return, and they could start all over again.
That is, after they delivered the news of the unpoisoned “Cursed Lands” which would shake the world, and then everyone could start all over again, even in Terryp’s western lands if they wanted.
Even as Mahrree stared at the ground she wasn’t seeing it, but was “going over the wall” and envisioning forests. Deserts. Stone buildings that were broader and taller than anything in Idumea, and stacked like pyramids stepping upwards. There were three of those on the map. Temples, Terryp had called them.
What temples were Mahrree had no idea, but desperately wanted to find out.
And what lay beyond? Perrin suspected the expedition didn’t even make it to the ruins before they turned back. He guessed they camped on the edge of the desert most of the time creating the new reality of their “origins” that they presented to the world.
But Perrin and Peto would find a route, with Mahrree in tow—
She shook her head and tried focus on her meager garden. Listen to me, she thought, I’m already on the trail Perrin has yet to cut!
They hadn’t told Peto yet, nor Jaytsy and Deckett. Perrin and Mahrree decided to keep the idea to themselves until the baby was born and all seemed well. How they could keep their plans quiet until then, Mahrree could hardly imagine. But it was her pledge to her husband: Test me and you’ll see that I can keep something to myself for once. She did owe it to him, after all.
She grinned at her tiny yard without noticing a cluster of women watching her from across the road trying to figure out why Mrs. Shin was beaming at raked soil.
Before Mahrree could wonder what exactly saddle sores were, she heard Peto shouting from the back garden as he ran to the front.
“Mother! Jaytsy says the pains are coming every ten minutes!”
Mahrree leaped to her feet. “Oh, it’s too soon!”
As she ran into the house she heard Peto call after her, “You don’t have to rush. A representative is already there and said she can help.”
Mahrree froze when she heard that news. “Oh no she won’t!”
She ran to Jaytsy’s old room and snatched the birthing bag that sat next to the new cradle.
“Stupid Administrative retraining!” she grumbled as she hastily checked the bag left for her by the only midwife in Edge Mahrree felt they could trust. “The first woman willing to talk to us, and they send her to Idumea for the week. As if a woman in her fifties and experience with dozens of deliveries needs ‘retraining’ by the government. Dear Creator, she better not be listening to them. And she better come back, quick!”
As Mahrree rushed with Peto back up to the Briters, she remembered first meeting Mrs. Braxhicks last week.
“Mrs. Shin! I’m so glad to see you here,” Mrs. Braxhicks had said when Mahrree came into the Briters’ kitchen. “I was hoping you’d come by since I can’t come to you.” She shook her head in annoyance. “Stupid regulations! I need to tell you, as I’ve already told your daughter: I have to leave for two weeks for Idumea.”
“Why?” Mahrree had asked.
“Ridiculous Administrative nonsense!” she blustered. “I’m sorry to put it that way, but if anyone would agree with me it’d be you, right?”
Mahrree looked hard at the woman. “What color is the sky?”
Mrs. Braxhicks immediately glanced out the window. “Gray and white. Storm’s coming. Be clearer by tomorrow, though.”
Mahrree grinned in approval. There were still a few thinking women in the world.
“You see, even though I’ve been delivering babies for over thirty years, I’m not ‘qualified’. To continue practicing I need to be re-trained by the Office of Family. They even issued a handbook,” Mrs. Braxhicks scoffed in disgust. “Under the heading ‘How to handle a breach birth’ they have one sentence, then a full paragraph on how to comfort the grieving husband and father after the deaths. Why, Mr. Briter could do better than that. And I’m telling you now—should Jaytsy start her pains before I return, do NOT let the Office of Family representative in this house. Mrs. Shin, you and Mr. Briter can handle this.”
Jaytsy and Mahrree both burst out laughing at that.
“I’ll do my best,” Mahrree said. “But Deckett? I don’t know where you’ve been delivering babies for thirty years, but around here men don’t do anything but pace the fields out of earshot.”
“In some villages the fathers are just as involved with the delivery as the mother,” Mrs. Braxhicks said soberly. “They’re responsible for getting it in there, they better assist in getting it out.”
That elicited another round of laughter, and even the midwife broke into a smile.
“I didn’t mean to put it so coarsely, but Mr. Briter has more experience with birthing than most of the new representatives. Just tell him it’s natural for a baby to come out head first, and there’s no need for him to bury his arm in anything.”
That afternoon last week Mahrree and Jaytsy received a fast lesson in how to birth babies.
When they told Deck of the midwife’s recommendations, he went gray.
“Then I’ll pray to the Creator that nothing happens in the next few weeks.” He walked outside and sat under a tree with his head between his knees.
I guess he didn’t pray hard enough, Mahrree thought as she bounded through Jaytsy’s door.
“Up here, Mother,” Jaytsy’s voice called down to her.
“You’re on your own,” said Peto as he quickly made his exit.
Mahrree ran up the stairs to Jaytsy’s bedroom where she was resting—so to speak—on the bed.
A representative in a crisp white uniform—
White? Mahrree thought incredulously.
—and a bag of her own sat waiting on a chair. Her hair was tidied into a neat bun and gloves were on her hands. What was she planning to do in such an absurd outfit?
White, of all colors . . .
Mahrree glared at her, worried that the girl had even less experience with birthing than Mahrree. “What have you done to my daughter?” She turned to Jaytsy. “And why are you in bed? Where’s the bale of straw?”
“She shoved it out and she told me I belonged up here!” Jaytsy said angrily, pointing at the young woman.
“But birthing in your bed will ruin it!” Mahrree exclaimed.
“I know!”
They both look accusingly at the Administrators’ representative.
The young woman paled even more than her silly uniform and seemed stunned to be on inspection. “If she’s lying down it’s easier for me to deliver the baby.”
Jaytsy blinked. “Why should I accommodate you? It’s my baby, and I’m doing all the work! Aren’t you supposed to be serving me?”
The girl furrowed her brows, clearly never having considered that before. Her eyes began to dart back and forth, as if reading an invisible text, searching for the script she had carefully memorized to become a well-trained Administrative servant. Finally she found it and look
ed at Mahrree.
“Good morning, Madam. I’m Miss Giding.”
Mahrree nearly snorted. “You certainly are!”
Jaytsy guffawed, but it sounded more like a cough of pain than derision.
The poor girl’s brows furrowed further, but she kept to her script. “And you are . . . ?”
“Irritated that you’re here without permission,” Mahrree snapped. “And you know full well who I am. Everyone does.”
Miss Giding batted her eyelashes and stood up. “Now there’s no need to worry. I don’t charge anything. I’m here as a service from the Administrators,” she said as if she really believed it. “I come to bring help and comfort.”
“Mother, she hasn’t done anything to me,” Jaytsy assured her. “I won’t let her. I wanted to wait for you before I listened to what she had to say.” Jaytsy’s eyes closed and she began to breathe deeply.
“That’s looks like the real thing,” Mahrree fretted. “So you’re trying the breathing first? Roll to your side, remember?”
Obediently Jaytsy rolled over and breathed rhythmically until the pain subsided.
“You could try to crooning, too. Get in that practice.”
“She doesn’t have to do that, you know,” the representative said. “We’ve found that many women prefer to remain on their backs.”
Mahrree stared at Miss Giding and said, “Jaytsy, did it feel better on your side or your back?”
“The pain is in my back! Why put more pressure on it?”
“Our midwife,” Mahrree said pointedly, “who’s been sent away for two weeks, taught us many ways to ease the discomfort of laboring.” Her eyes she burned holes in the woman’s white uniform. “So tell me, Miss Giding, how long are women in this new regime supposed to lie on their backs?”
The representative looked confused. For a moment Mahrree almost had compassion for this young woman, barely older than her daughter. “For the entire time, madam!”