by Trish Mercer
“Oh Shem, you’re brilliant!” Perrin grinned in genuine admiration. “I should give you my old lieutenant colonel’s jacket. You would’ve been a great officer.”
“Thank you. I often thought so myself,” said Shem smugly. “Every day the horses of important visitors came in. You’d be surprised what kinds of documents they leave in their saddle bags, assuming that manure men don’t know how to read. General Thorne was there more often than he was at the garrison. Every morning he’d drop off his stallion, with ridiculous details about how I should feed it and brush it and speak to it—I think he cares more for his horse than any human being. Then in the afternoon he’d come back mumbling and cursing to retrieve his horse.”
“And he never recognized you?” Perrin asked, astonished. “Qayin’s seen you at least three or four times.”
“He only ever saw my uniform, not me. And never once did he bother to make eye contact with his horse’s manure man.”
Perrin squinted. “And why was Qayin so upset each day?”
“Because of you and Mahrree, naturally,” Shem told him. “We’ve had a Salemite in the building for several years now. He’s the recorder at the main desk to the Conference Room and told me who went in and out of that room each day. Perrin, the Administrators spent the last two and a half weeks arguing about nothing else but you and Mahrree.”
Perrin let out a low whistle. “Whatever you do, don’t tell her, Shem. She’s already a nervous wreck, especially after I warned her that Genev might be starting a file on her . . . what’s that look for?”
Shem wet his lips and scrunched his mouth.
“Oh no,” Perrin said in a low voice. “Since when?”
“Remember her first letter to the Department of Instruction, asking about letting parents teach their children at home?”
“Her first letter?” Perrin blinked in surprise. “That was years ago! It didn’t make it past the skimmers.”
“Yes, it did,” Shem whispered. “All the way to Gadiman. He started a file then.”
Perrin covered his mouth with his hand.
“It’s part of the reason I didn’t come earlier. I saw the file on your desk, I mean, the command desk this afternoon. I think it was supposed to have been hidden under the papers on top of it, but there was a lot of activity in the office and some of the younger soldiers were a little sloppy around the desk. I think they were trying to put their transfer requests on top of the others.”
Shem unbuttoned a pouch on the inside of his bag and pulled out a thick stack of papers with a thin leather cover. He laid it on the dirt and straw in front of Perrin and opened it to the first page.
“I’d been waiting for my chance to get it, but I had to do it when no one would suspect it was me. Lemuel thinks he misplaced this in his quarters. He was tearing it apart tonight, searching. That’s why I was finally able to sneak out and come here.”
Perrin didn’t touch the file but stared at the name and the notes on the front of it as if it were a poisonous snake ready to attack the first thing that moved.
Shem didn’t like touching it either, but he shifted over Gadiman’s notes to reveal Mahrree’s first letter, marked with underlines and comments in the margins written in Gadiman’s hand.
With a stick, Shem pointed at where Perrin was already staring.
“Mahrree Peto Shin. Red dot. Traitor. Perrin, she’s scheduled for trial in three days. And so are you.”
Now Perrin’s other hand covered his mouth too, but he didn’t take his eyes off the file.
Shem slid over a few more pages, still with the stick, as if the file were infected. Mahrree’s second letter. Her third. Her fourth. Everything she said in front of the Administrators in Idumea. More notes. More comments. More pages.
“General Thorne came to the stables in an excellent mood afternoon before last,” Shem related quietly. “He was actually whistling as he retrieved his horse and whispered lovingly to it. I heard him mention your names, and that’s when I knew the Administrators had finally come to a decision. And if it was something to make Qayin so happy, it certainly couldn’t be good for you. I left immediately, dropping my pitchfork in the middle of the dirty stall, and borrowed a horse from my contact to get back here, riding all night and ‘borrowing’ a few more animals along the way.
“Late this afternoon a messenger came for Lemuel. I was in the forward office when he arrived. Thankfully Lemuel has yet to figure out about those holes in the wall under the banner and map. I heard him discussing the contents of the message with Lieutenant Radan. Perrin, Administrator Genev is on his way. He’ll be here late tomorrow night and will be taking over Rector Yung’s home and the rectory. He’s to escort you, Mahrree, and even Peto day after tomorrow in the morning to Idumea. You’re to ride in separate coaches with four guards for each of you. Perrin, you know as well as I do that there’s no chance of a fair trial for any of you.”
Perrin didn’t breathe. He didn’t blink. He just stared, motionless, at the death sentence that sat before him, written in his wife’s hand, begun several years ago.
Shem continued. “There was no mention of Jaytsy. Thorne knew she was having pains earlier and was rather anxious about it. He seems to have his own plans for her, Perrin, but I don’t know what they are. I don’t want to know, either.”
Perrin remained immobile.
“Do you see now why we have to get you out tomorrow night?” Shem gripped his shoulder again. “There’s no more time for you. The Saver of Edge is now the Traitor of Idumea. And his wife caused his downfall. You may just be imprisoned at the garrison for the rest of your life so General Thorne can come gloat at you, but Mahrree? Recently the Administrators passed all the laws they need to convict and execute based on someone expressing their ideas. Death for merely words, Perrin. No actions, just thoughts. They don’t even need this file! Mahrree said more than enough about her disbelief in the findings of Terryp’s land, and in front of far too many witnesses.”
Finally finding the strength to move, Perrin could do nothing but slowly shake his head. “Before we were married for two years, Hogal told me that Mahrree was the most dangerous woman in the world,” he whispered. “But she never knew she was dangerous. All she ever did was try to find the truth. That’s all she’s ever been guilty of, Shem. She’s no traitor. Just a little woman in a little village intent on finding the truth.”
He stared at the ground, his countenance heavy and dark.
“We have to destroy that file, Shem. And Mahrree must never know about it. At least not until we reach Salem.”
Shem sat up. “So you agree to go? Jothan said he wasn’t convinced you were really ready to leave.”
“So his name’s Jothan,” Perrin said dully, staring at the file and fear flickering in his eyes. “Shem, there’s nothing in this world I want anymore. Nothing except to take my family and leave it.”
“Yes!” Shem said in a loud whisper. He grabbed Perrin’s arms and shook them enthusiastically.
He even managed to shake a frail smile on to his friend’s face. “All right, all right already!” Perrin said. “I’m doing the right thing, correct?”
“Absolutely! Perrin, you can trust Jothan with anything. He’ll get you over and see to it that Jaytsy’s comfortable—”
“Wait,” Perrin interrupted, “you’re not coming with us?”
“I can’t. I have more work to do here. I can’t leave yet. Someday I will, but I don’t know when.”
Clearly not happy with that response, Perrin said, “Shem, I don’t know if I feel good about this now. I was fully expecting you’d take us—”
“I don’t go, Perrin. I keep the route clear, but I don’t go, unless it’s on leave. That’s another thing I need to confess. On leaves, I never went south to go home—”
“I figured that out by now,” Perrin said hurriedly. “Shem, I barely know Jothan!”
“But he knows all about you.”
Perrin scoffed. “So he says.”
“Per
rin, trust Jothan more than you trusted me. He’s the one who got you through your trauma, not me.”
Perrin’s skepticism returned, once again. “What do you mean?”
“I told Mahrree that I found a book which explained how to help traumatized soldiers,” Shem began guiltily. “There was no book. That’s why, even though she insisted on reading it, I told her she couldn’t because it was never to leave the surgeon’s office. Another deception—sorry. She didn’t want the surgeon to know what was going on with you, although he figured things out by your behavior. Another thing I failed to tell you about. Sorry. There are actually several more things you don’t know about yet. I know, I know—keep going.
“Anyway, there never was a book. Rector Yung has helped several traumatized soldiers, but even he depended upon Jothan. Normally Jothan lives in the forest in a camp he and his wife have set up, returning to Salem maybe once every four to five weeks unless he’s escorting families. But when you were having your nightmares, Jothan made the journey far more frequently to deliver my concerns to Salem, and to find out how to help you next. Usually Jothan and Asrar rotate the escorting duties with two other couples throughout the year. But when their turn for the year was up, they refused to leave. They didn’t want to go back to Salem until they knew you were going to make it. They stayed the full year, just to keep watch over you. Their last name is Hifadhi.” Shem watched Perrin intently to see how much he might pick up from that.
Perrin rubbed at some dirt on his boot until it was gone, unable to look Shem in the eyes. “Jothan and Asrar Hifadhi. I had no idea,” he whispered. “I, uh, I wasn’t the most friendly to him tonight. In fact, most of the time I was trying to figure out if I could beat him in a fight.”
Shem shook his head. “Nope. Even at your best he would’ve thrown you to the ground like you used to throw me.” He smiled. “A few times I really wished I could have seen you two wrestle and see you get humbled. Maybe I still might get my wish. You might have a chance at beating him. He’s only two years older than you.”
Perrin looked up. “Seriously? I thought he was a lot younger.”
Shem grinned. “If that doesn’t get you, this will—he’s a grandfather!”
That did get him. “No!” Perrin almost forgot to keep his voice down.
Shem laughed quietly. “He and Asrar married when they were eighteen. They had six children in seven years. Now that they are all grown and married, he’s devoted his life to helping others reach Salem like his wife’s ancestors.” Shem’s voice quieted. “He’s really quite a remarkable man. I have no doubt the two of you will become great friends. He can keep you entertained until it’s time for me to return to Salem. And Perrin? This wasn’t your first encounter with Jothan.”
Perrin rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know how much more I can take. All right—when did I meet him before?”
“Not exactly meet,” Shem bobbed his head. “It was before my time in Edge. It seems there was a determined captain who knew that twelve Guarders were coming to take his expecting wife and daughter—”
“Oh, Shem,” Perrin breathed. “I think I know what this is about.”
“You do, Perrin. There weren’t twelve men. There were fourteen. Our scouts counted them as they came into the forest. Salem knew what was coming, and they called out as many volunteers as they could find. Perrin, more than seventy men came to your aid that night—I’ve read the reports. You took out a few Guarders right off, but others had slipped past you. So the Salemites caught them and herded them back to you, knowing you wouldn’t leave until you knew all were secured. Some of our men even held and muzzled the last two men after you killed the initial twelve. They lost grip on the one who tried to strangle you.”
Perrin rubbed his throat as if he could still feel it. “The man was massive. I took my long knife and thrust it behind me, catching him on the cheek—”
“And also catching Jothan Hifadhi on his right hand. He was coming to your rescue, and you nicked him as you slashed the Guarder on the cheek. Jothan still has the scar. And it was Jothan who plunged his knife into your strangler’s neck an instant later, and bounded off into the woods so you wouldn’t know he’d been there. You did kill the fourteenth on your own, after you were injured. Had you been unable, you would’ve been helped again. Jothan had also killed a Guarder who you only injured with an arrow in the thigh. But the rest really were yours.”
Another minute passed in silence as Perrin stared at his hands. “Jothan saved my life that night,” he said after a while. “And also spent another year seeing me through my trauma? Shem, how would I even begin to thank him?”
“By trusting him. When he comes for you tomorrow night, just nod. He’ll get the message. He’s not a very emotional person. He’s much more like you than me, and will be pretty annoyed when he learns how much I’ve told you about him. Now, I suggest we dispose of these papers properly and get some sleep tonight. You have a journey ahead of you tomorrow night, and my duty shift just changed to the night shift. Neither of us will have had enough rest.”
As Perrin stood up and wiped straw off his pants he said, “I always wondered why you took so many night shifts. What else don’t I know yet, Shem?”
Shem smiled guardedly as he got to his feet. “You’ve heard enough for one night.”
---
Early in the morning Deckett walked into his barn to begin milking. He immediately saw that one of his shovels was in a different place than it was the night before. He normally wouldn’t have noticed, but he was sure he had left the shovel leaning against the back door after he had used it to pointlessly move some dirt back and forth while waiting for his wife to calm down after her frustrating day where she didn’t yet become a mother. He was too lazily distracted last night, and didn’t hang the shovel next to the second one on the pegs on the wall.
Yet it was there now.
Nervously, he looked around the barn. In the dim morning light it was hard to tell, but it seemed that in an empty stall the ground had been disturbed and straw strewn over the top so as to conceal the act.
He evaluated the spot for a moment before deciding not to touch it. His father-in-law would be over in a little while. He could investigate it and tell Deck what may have happened.
After all, Perrin always knew everything.
###
Acknowledgements
I acknowledge that my writing will never be flawless, so please don’t let me get in the way of the story. Even though I’ve gone through this three-fifty bajillion times, errors remains.
I also acknowledge that I’m having the absolute time of my life scritching out these stories.
(Ok, that’s not quite accurate: I do everything on my computer, so I don’t really scritch, but “tapping out these stories” doesn’t sound as romantic. And I love the word “scritching,” even if my computer doesn’t recognize it. Scritch. Scritch. I wish you could see in print all these angry red squiggly lines. My computer doesn’t like bajillion, either, although it’s a perfectly good word.)
I acknowledge that without my many friends and family who tolerate my hobby and occasionally proofread for me, I’d never have the time to do this.
I acknowledge that these characters haven’t been created by me, but simply dropped into my head many years ago and have been growing over the years until they finally demanded that I write about them. And I also acknowledge that they surprise me as much as I hope they surprise you. Really, I have no idea what they’re up to until I’m scritching out the words on my keyboard.
It’s very much their story, not mine. Forgive me when I get in their way.
I’m just the teller, not the creator.
And I checked: this phenomenon of characters taking over the storyline is quite common among writers. We’re not crazy. Entirely.
But if I am crazy, please no one cure me. This is just far too much fun. I thoroughly enjoy the voices in my head. Occasionally they let me get in a word edgewise.
Thank you for
reading, for tolerating my many mistakes, for your encouraging comments, and for joining me on the ride. As you can tell there are a few more books still coming in this series. The Shins and many others still have a lot more to do.
I can hardly wait to share their future with you!
About the author . . .
Trish Strebel Mercer has been teaching writing, or editing graduate papers, or changing diapers since the early 1990’s. She earned a BA in English from Brigham Young University and an MA in Composition Theory and Rhetoric from Utah State University. She and her husband David have nine children (and now adding grandchildren) and have raised them in Utah, Idaho, Maryland, Virginia, and South Carolina. Currently they live in the rural west and dream of the day they will be old enough to be campground managers in Yellowstone National Park.
Other titles:
The Forest at the Edge of the World (Book 1)
Soldier at the Door (Book 2)
The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3)
Visit me everywhere else!
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TrishMercerAuthorandShopOwner
Twitter: https://twitter.com/mercertrish9
Blog: http://forestedgebooks.com
Smashwords Interview: https://www.smashwords.com/interview/trishmercer
Smashwords profile page: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/trishmercer