by Trish Mercer
Peto entered his room, knowing it would be one of the last times he ever would. He wished that the moment was somehow more momentous, but his room didn’t seem to understand he was about to leave it. The kickball given to him by Relf in Idumea didn’t even do anything but sit sedately on the shelf.
“Peto?” Perrin called him from the eating room table. “Come out here when you can. I’ve got something to show you before dinner.”
“In a minute,” Peto said. He closed his door, walked over to the wardrobe, and saw the corner of the parchment envelope under a folded jacket belonging to a suit hopelessly too small for him. He patted the jacket with brass buttons one last time, slid out the envelope, and peered inside at Relf Shin’s recorded dream about his son becoming the greatest general that Idumea—that the world—would ever see. Along the top were still scrawled the names of Lek and Lorixania Shin: the first Shin general, and his wife, whose family were Guarder traitors.
He sat down heavily on his bed and sighed. “Grandfather?” he whispered, hoping that somehow he could pull him from Paradise, wherever that was.
Feeling a bit more mature, he tried, “Relf?”
He held up the envelope.
“We’ve got a problem, sir. I’ve been mulling it over all day, and I think I’ve figured out what’s going on. I hate to say this, but . . . your son is scared. He’s scared to stay, he knows he doesn’t have a future here, and I think that man Jothan he told us about has him shaking in his boots, but he won’t admit it. He’s holding back stuff, I can tell. Maybe he’s been threatened? And as for my mother—well, she’s a bit batty today, I’ll be honest. I think she’s so desperate for something to happen that she’s jumping into this without thinking.
“But I’ve been thinking, Relf, and now I think I understand why you gave this to me.” He waved the envelope. “I’m the only one in this house still in his right mind, the only one who could be trusted with this information. My parents are walking into a trap, into a mess bigger than we’re leaving, and it’s up to me to save them from that.”
He leaned back on his bed, feeling confident.
“I’ll go with them until I can find proof that this is all a big mistake. Then . . . well, we’ll need a way to escape all of this. Will you be able to help?”
The cosmos didn’t answer, but Peto would’ve been surprised if it had.
“I’ll just have to trust that the correct solution will present itself, and that I can knock some sense into my parents at the right time. Until then, I’ll gather evidence. And if I can’t convince Father, I’m sure I can enlist Karna, Fadh, and Yordin to get through to him.”
He carefully stuffed the envelope into his shirt pocket. “Yes, it’s going with me, just like you said it should. And when the time’s right, I may pull it out and show him what you said he should be doing instead of running away like a . . .”
He couldn’t bring himself to say the “c” word.
The silence in the room said it for him.
“Guess I better see what Father wanted to show me,” Peto whispered as he got off his bed.
Halfway to his door a thought banged so abruptly into his mind that he stumbled. If he actually heard the words, or if he just imagined them, he wasn’t sure. But he couldn’t deny the question: So where did Lorixania’s family run away to?
Peto staggered.
His great-great-great grandfather didn’t retrieve them, as King Querul had ordered. That’s why Lek Shin’s name was lost to history. So that meant his in-laws got away.
That could mean they were—
“In Salem?!” Peto gasped. “If Salem really exists,” he added, still wrestling with that possibility. “Relf worried that his ancestors were Guarders, but the first Guarders actually ran away to Salem, which means . . . which means that if all of this is true, then we may have family there already.”
He sat clumsily on his bed, never before feeling so disoriented. It was as if someone had stood him on his head and said, “Ah, there. Now you see the world as it really is. Funny how you lasted seventeen years seeing everything upside down and didn’t know it.”
“Suddenly I’m not so sure about anything anymore.”
He was surprised to hear those words come from his mouth, and to feel his previous plans, revised many times today, growing fuzzy in his mind.
“Grandfather? What do I do next?”
The last time he felt Relf Shin was on the kickball field when he impressed Peto with the notion of Wait. The word once again filled Peto’s mind, and he wasn’t sure if he was just imagining that.
“So . . . wait for more evidence to help convince my parents all of this is a horrible idea? Or wait to—”
“Peto?” Perrin called again from the eating room. “I’d really like you to come see this.”
Peto sighed. “Wait,” he said to himself. “As usual. All right.” In a louder voice he said, “Coming, Father.” He patted the envelope, concealed by his pocket, and opened his bedroom door.
In the gathering room, Jaytsy was sobbing, again, as she kneeled next to the completed cradle made by their father that her baby would never sleep in.
“Can’t we just take this? As the only thing?” she begged.
Deck bit his lip, and Peto knew why. Deck had eyed the small-scale incarceration unit over the past few weeks. While Perrin wanted it strong enough to withstand a major land tremor, Peto thought it would also make a suitable cage for rabid bobcats.
It probably didn’t help that Peto had once said to Deck, “Good thing it’s so sturdy. Mother told me some of the stories about Jaytsy and me when we were little, and that cradle might have contained us. But don’t worry; your baby will probably not be nearly as much trouble as your wife was.”
Besides, the thing was so bulky it would have taken all three men to drag it up to the Briters.
Mahrree, patting farewell to each book that had belonged to her father, smiled miserably. “No, Jayts. Nothing goes with us.”
Deck, standing next to the table, sighed quietly in relief.
“We have to maintain the appearance of being kidnapped,” Mahrree reminded them. “The only things we can take are some personal papers that no strangers would notice missing. Your father can make a new cradle in Salem.”
Perrin nodded as he looked at the table, not yet set for dinner.
When Peto saw what was laid out on top of it, he gasped. “Terryp’s map! You really have it!”
“I thought you’d like to see it at least once before you never see it again,” Perrin smiled.
Deck chuckled and bent over for a closer look. “It’s amazing. I can’t believe you really stole this and kept it all these years.”
Peto couldn’t help himself. “And in our house,” he laughed. “Terryp. Unbelievable!”
Jaytsy wiped away her tears as she joined them. “I don’t know what’s more shocking,” she said. “That our father took this from the garrison storage room when he was younger, or that our mother abandoned us when we were small to find a Guarder in the forest.”
Mahrree spun around. “I’ve told you, I would never have abandoned you!” she defended herself for the ninth time. “I just, just—”
Their parents had been confessing a lot of things today.
“Yes, yes, yes, we know,” Jaytsy said. “Wanted to know the truth. You know, Peto, some people worry about rebellious teenagers, but you and me?”
Peto shook his head with feigned sadness. “Rebellious parents. They are out of control,” he added with emphasis that no one noticed.
“We need to leave this place that has influenced them in the very worst of ways,” Jaytsy rolled her eyes dramatically.
“All right, all right,” Perrin nodded at his laughing family. “Yet another reason why we need to leave. And unfortunately, we also have to leave Terryp. You know, Shem said he knew I was the one who made the copy.”
Mahrree turned from her book patting. “How?”
“By the arrows. He said whenever I made arrows o
n our plans, ten percent of them wouldn’t be fully closed. When he saw the copy of the map the Expedition brought to my office, he had a suspicion and counted the arrows. Of the eighteen arrows, two weren’t completely closed.”
“He concluded by two arrows that you made the map?” Peto squinted. “Why did you tell him you had the original?”
“I told you, Peto—he already figured it out. Last night we shared a lot of secrets,” Perrin said, noticeably uncomfortable.
“And what kind of secrets did he reveal to you?”
Perrin’s gaze flicked over to him. “Now’s not the time, son.”
“Why not? We should get to know some of Shem’s dark little secrets, shouldn’t we? He knew all of ours!” Immediately Peto knew he’d pushed it too far; his father’s glare had gone steely.
“Not tonight, Peto!”
Peto had seen that behavior before, in an injured wolf limping along the edge of Edge. The closer anyone got to it, the more it snarled and sheltered its hurt leg. A noble and naive doctor was trying to help it, until it bit off one of his fingers.
Peto didn’t feel like losing any appendages tonight, so he sat down at the table to be closer to the map. It was full of possibilities, calling to him—nearly screaming—and no one else heard it?
“Father,” he said quietly, tracing the drawings of stacked pyramids Terryp had labeled temples, “I would have gone with you on The Great Shin Expedition of 338 to Terryp’s land.”
Perrin softened and smiled. “Thank you. Perhaps we still can.”
“You know,” Peto said, looking up at him, but Perrin was staring longingly at the map, as if putting off burying a loved one at a funeral. “We still can. You have to leave Edge? Then let’s leave, but go to Terryp’s land instead of going with these Salem people.”
His father sighed, and it seemed to Peto that he wasn’t really hearing him. “They said, uh . . . they said they’ll take us themselves. Tours and campsites and lectures.” He waved aimlessly. “We’ll still get there, son. Later.”
“But let’s take the map, Father. You and me and—”
“The map stays,” said Perrin dully. “Shem’s suggestion. People will be searching the house, looking for clues. When they find this, they’ll be speculating for a long time as to why I had it.”
“That was Shem’s idea?” Peto clarified. “To leave this map?”
“Yeah.”
Peto rested his chin on his fist. Shem’s idea. He didn’t like this, not one bit. Why leave behind such a valuable document, just as a clue? Leave behind the copies his father made—that’s enough!
But by the look in his wistful and—dare he think it?—sad eyes, Perrin Shin wasn’t going to do anything today that someone else didn’t order him to. He was so meek, so trusting, so . . .
Peto couldn’t look at him anymore.
“I can’t believe we’re leaving without saying goodbye to Shem,” Jaytsy sniffed.
Peto scoffed quietly to himself.
“He has to lead the patrols away from where we’re going,” Perrin told her. “And since the maneuvers he scheduled were usually in the west, I’m assuming the route starts somewhere in the east.”
Under his breath, Peto said, “Yet another one of Shem’s ideas.”
Deck winced. “East? All that’s east are the marshes.”
“And nobody ever goes into the marshes,” Peto pointed out. “Well, except for teenagers hiding from their parents.”
“And how often did you hide there from me?” Perrin dropped casually.
“I hate mosquitoes, you know that. I hid at Rector Yung’s most of the time.”
“Mahrree, our children are right. Edge had been a terrible influence. It made our son hide out at a rector’s home, of all places.”
Peto had to smile at that. “And Yung’s really from Salem? He’s gone back there?”
“Apparently,” Perrin shrugged again.
“And what kind of evidence do we have of that?”
His father, still staring forlornly at the map, waved that away. “Guess we’ll have that evidence when we see him there. And now Terryp, my dear friend who I never met, I bid you a fond farewell.” He ran his hand over the map one last time. “You have inspired so many. Never feel you didn’t accomplish anything. You don’t know how many lives you touched.”
Peto’s eyes burned to hear his father’s voice tremble.
Perrin slid the mugs off the corners of the map, rolled it up, and nestled it with the copies he made but never sent. They watched in silence as he somberly walked the rolls to his study, and Peto realized the funeral was over. Hearing his mother sniffing, he watched her wipe her eyes and hurry off to the kitchen to check on dinner.
At the table, Peto massaged his hands and brooded quietly.
Jaytsy set the table for dinner around him.
When their father came out of the study, his eyes were noticeably redder, and he was folding a stack of pages.
“What’s that?” Jaytsy asked, balancing a plate on Peto’s hands.
“My parents’ letters to me over the years, and a few lists from my mother,” he told her.
“I have some of their letters, too,” Jaytsy said, nudging over her brother’s arm to put down a fork. “And a few recipes from Grandmother Peto. Could you be any more unhelpful?” she snapped at Peto.
“Oh, I’m trying to be helpful,” he grumbled. “You have no idea.”
Perrin turned to Deck, who had come from the washroom. “You brought your parents’ letters with you, right?”
He nodded as he patted his shirt and unbuttoned a few buttons. “And my father’s journal.” He extracted a thick book that reduced the size of his chest and stomach by several inches. “I hope it’s not too large for Jothan’s pack.”
“I thought Deck looked a bit beefier tonight,” Peto said. But in his mind he was shouting, You too, Deck? You’re really buying into all of this as well? It’s madness!
Perrin nodded to Deck. “We’ll make sure Cambozola’s journal goes with us, along with Hycymum’s recipe collection. She’d be furious if we left that behind for just anyone to find.” He turned to Peto. “Do you have anything to bring?”
“Nothing for the pack. I think you have all the family records.”
“Your mother has a few things she said she’s carrying in her pockets,” Perrin nodded. “I suppose that’s everything then.”
It was all Peto could do to not massage his head in aggravation. Like trusting little lambs, all of them. Willing to follow the guard dog Shem, who was most likely a wolf. And not an injured one, either. A cunning, healthy wolf lying in wait.
None of this was going to end well, none of it. But so far, Peto didn’t know yet how to stop it.
---
Never before had dinner been over so quickly, Mahrree thought, as they cleaned up the dishes. Everything she did, she realized, was for the last time. Wiping the work table. Sweeping the floor. Putting away the mugs. Never before had tidying up felt so important.
That’s why she continued into the gathering room, straightening books and folding blankets.
“Why?” Perrin asked. “Whoever searches the house tomorrow won’t be taking notes on how well you kept it up.”
She smacked him with a pillow she was fluffing before she set it down next to him on the sofa. “Because . . . well, this sounds silly, but I bought this house twenty-five years ago, and it’s been very good to me, and . . . I want to say goodbye to it properly.”
Peto rolled his eyes.
“And is that why Jaytsy,” Deck spoke up, “is in the washing room wiping down the sink?”
Mahrree shrugged. “That, or the nesting instinct is really taking over. She was using the scrub brush. I didn’t think it was that dirty.”
Through the kitchen door came Jaytsy, brush in hand and surprise on her face, because she wasn’t alone. Slipping in silently behind her was a small, dark woman, dressed like the night.
“I didn’
t even hear her come in!” Jaytsy exclaimed. “Suddenly, there she was in the kitchen!”
Perrin was already on his feet, nodding to the woman. “Everyone, this is Asrar. She was here last night. Wait a minute—there are two soldiers posted in the back garden. How’d you get past them?”
Asrar beamed with delight, her black eyes nearly glowing. “The Creator gives us gifts and talents,” she said. “Mine, it seems, is becoming invisible when I need to be.”
“Asrar,” Mahrree said, “that must have been a wonderful trick when you were the mother of six young children.”
“Six!” Peto whispered.
“So Shem told me. Sorry,” Perrin said to Asrar, “but I demanded some details and shared them with my family.”
She smiled broadly. “And tonight I’ll answer nearly any question you ask me, in the limited time we have.”
“I’ve got one,” Peto said. “Where’s this place Salem?”
Asrar patted him on the arm. “I said nearly any question. Shem warned me about you.”
“Oh, he did? Not surprising.”
Mahrree cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Asrar. I’m not sure why my son is so unpleasant tonight.” She jabbed him in the ribs.
“Trust me, Mother,” Jaytsy said. “It’s not just tonight.”
But Asrar was busy fumbling with something under the large black cloak she wore. She produced a bundle wrapped in cloth.
“What’s this?” Mahrree asked.
“Your disguises. You’ll be easy to see,” she aimed her nod at Jaytsy, “should anyone be looking for you, especially in that orange.”
Jaytsy shrugged in agreement as she glanced down at her billowy top and ample skirt.
“These clothes are far better for traveling,” Asrar explained as she handed out a tight bundle to each of them. “If you could put them on now, I can make any modifications if needed. I also happen to be gifted with a needle,” she added modestly.
Peto was the slowest to accept his, but Deck was already undoing the string holding his bundle together, smiling curiously at it.
“Jaytsy and I will change upstairs,” Mahrree said. “You boys can change in Peto’s bedroom.”
“And I’ll need what you’re changing out of,” Asrar told them.
Mahrree, who was already on the stairs, stopped and turned, and noticed that Perrin had paused on his way to Peto’s bedroom.
“Why?” he asked, full of suspicion.
Asrar’s gaze darted between both of them. “I was told not to tell you, but I can see already that you won’t agree unless I do. We’re dressing decoys for you.”
Perrin tilted his head. “For all of us?”
“As a precaution. In case anyone notices you’re missing, we’ll have some of our scouts dressed as your family in the same clothing that you were seen in earlier. If complications arise—” and something in her tone made the hair on Mahrree’s neck prickle, “—the decoys can lead the soldiers on false trails.”
Jaytsy paled. “You won’t have a pregnant woman for my decoy, will you?”
“No, a middle-aged man with a bit of a pot belly, I’m afraid,” Asrar smiled. “If it makes you feel better,” she added when she saw Jaytsy’s face screw up into dismay, “he’s not entirely thrilled about it either. Especially when his wife made him a black ponytail wig from a real pony’s tail.”
It was only the second time that day that Mahrree had heard Peto laugh. She asked Asrar, “Is there another middle-aged man for me?”
“Actually, a short, slender scout in his mid-twenties,” Asrar said. “His wife is most anxious to see him in a dress, so he just may have to try to bring some of it back for her.”
Now Deck was trying not to snicker, and even Perrin cracked a smile, but Mahrree wondered why only some of it.
“And what about a decoy for me?” Perrin asked.
“You were a bit harder,” Asrar admitted. “But we found someone who could pass for you, in the dark, and from a distance. We’re most blessed that we’re moving you on a moons-less night. The darkness works in our favor. Usually,” she added.
Perrin heard her hesitancy. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just that we haven’t used decoys in a very long time. There’s a bit of concern, that’s all.”
“What,” Peto said, still sniggering, “that someone will realize Guarders like to dress up as women in their spare time?”
“No,” Asrar said. “That one of them may not return to Salem. Soldiers tend to panic in situations like this and act rashly when they realize they’ve been deceived.”
Peto’s expression had never before sobered so quickly. “You’re for real, aren’t you? All of this?”
Mahrree frowned at her son’s strange questions.
Asrar fixed on a radiant smile, although she blinked at Peto. “Yes? Every man out here tonight is a willing and eager volunteer. It will be, no doubt, the most memorable move since the first guards smuggled away Guide Pax. So please don’t worry! Now go and get dressed. We have less than an hour.”
Up in her bedroom Mahrree opened the bundle and held up the first item: a simple brown tunic which gave her a twinge of guilt. While her dresses were never as elaborate as Joriana’s Idumean creations, or even Hycymum’s imports from Scrub, Mahrree’s clothes were far more fancy than this. But the stitching was strong, the design practical, and the brown, rough weave reminded her of soil.
“I like it,” Jaytsy decided. She opened her bundle and pulled out her top. It was a similar style, but looser and in dark mottled green. “Plenty of room for my belly, but it doesn’t look fat. I already like these people.”
Mahrree chuckled and pulled out the skirt. But it wasn’t a skirt. She exchanged alarmed looks with Jaytsy before opening the door. “Asrar?” she called.
Asrar came quietly up the stairs.
“Is this right?” Mahrree asked. “Trousers?”
Chuckling, Asrar said, “Only men wear trousers, Mahrree. Women wear ‘breeches’ when traveling. Does that make you feel better?” She gestured to her own which, until that moment, Mahrree had assumed was a skirt.
“Yes, thank you!” Mahrree laughed.
Jaytsy was already evaluating her ‘breeches.’ “Look how much more room I have to grow in these,” she giggled as she demonstrated the adjustable waistband.
Mahrree slipped off her dress, the light blue linen that Joriana had purchased for her in Idumea, soon to be worn by some poor young man. She pulled on the tunic and the breeches, and immediately she was gripped with an unexpected sense of lightness, of—there it was again—joy. She glanced at herself in the mirror and saw a completely different Mahrree. She grinned.
Jaytsy twirled in her flowing green. “This feels really nice. I wonder what Deck will say to my ‘breeches’.” She looked at her outfit on the bed. “That orange really is rather garish.” She bundled it under her arm, as Mahrree was doing with the blue linen.
But they both found themselves staring at the red and blue plaid bedding, chosen by Hycymum and put on their bed after the room was rebuilt after the land tremor.
“Goodbye, Mother,” Mahrree murmured, running her hand along it. “You and Father and the Shins will watch over us tonight, won’t you?”
“And the Briters, too,” Jaytsy sniffled as she fingered the ruffle on the matching curtains. “We take all of them with us.”
A moment later Mahrree and Jaytsy came out of the upstairs bedroom, wiping their noses, and handed their clothing to Asrar. They followed her down the stairs to find the men dressed and waiting.
They each seemed a bit embarrassed yet lighter-hearted in their new apparel. Deck’s light blue work shirt was replaced by a dark green tunic and trousers which matched his wife’s. Peto fidgeted with his loose brown shirt that matched his trousers, and Perrin was dressed in nearly pure black. His eyebrows lifted in surprise at his wife’s breeches.
Mahrree posed. “Do you think they’ll ever become popular around here?”
&nb
sp; “I’ve seen women in some ridiculous outfits,” Perrin said tonelessly, “with skirts up past their knees and necklines down to where no honest man should be looking, but women in trousers?”
“Breeches!” the three women said together and chuckled at Perrin’s vigorous head shaking.
But Deck was eyeing his wife. “Oh, I don’t know, Perrin. Tell me, Asrar, do all women dress this way in Salem?”
Jaytsy put her hands on her hips. “Why do you want to know? You already have a wife.”
“No,” Asrar told him, “most women wear dresses most of the time. This is just for practical purposes.”
Deck nodded. “I have always appreciated practical women.”
Jaytsy stared at him, bemused.
Asrar gathered the men’s bundles and slipped all of the clothing under her roomy cloak, exchanging them for yet another bundle.
Mahrree wondered just how much woman there was under there. She was likely the diameter of a stick, filled out only by all she carried.
Asrar unwrapped the new bundle to reveal dull black cloth. She unfurled one and it turned out to be a heavy cloak with sleeves.
“The more you can look like the night, the easier it is to move you.” She pulled out three more cloaks and handed them to everyone but Perrin. “You’ll find these are quite warm.”
Perrin held out his hand.
She smiled. “Former Colonel Shin, please go get your uniform jacket. You still have it, I assume?”
“What?”
“Your uniform jacket. Please go get it.”
“But the medals and ribbons will show up almost as much as Jaytsy’s large orange belly would have,” he deadpanned.
“Father! I’m still in the room, can’t you see?”
“Of course we can see,” Peto said. “In fact, we can barely see around you.”
But Perrin was already up the stairs and returned a moment later with his jacket in hand.
“Now please turn it inside out,” Asrar said.
“Inside out?” As he pulled the first sleeve wrong side out he began to smile. Quickly he reversed the entire jacket to reveal a dull black coat, matching his new tunic and trousers perfectly.
“Shem’s been doing that for years, whenever he came to the forest,” Asrar explained. “We thought you’d like to take the jacket with you. Many people in Salem owe their lives to you wearing it.”
“Rather symbolic and ironic,” he said, his voice growing gruff. “I just need to reverse all I ever did, become what I chased—”
Mahrree smiled. “Perrin, you never looked better in that jacket.”
Asrar turned to her. “Oh dear. Mahrree, please come upstairs with me. I see a loose seam already, but we have time to fix that.”
Mahrree twisted to see her shoulders, but Asrar was already leading her up the stairs.
“I don’t see anything,” Mahrree said, as they went into the bedroom.
“I’m sorry, but I needed an excuse to get you up here alone. Mahrree, Shem’s told me that in your bottom drawer you have something,” Asrar raised her eyebrows meaningfully, “that will help us get your family past the guards posted around your home.”
Mahrree’s mouth dropped open but she snapped it shut. “I was wondering how we would get past them. Not all of us have your invisible talent. But yes, I do.” She pulled out the bottom drawer, and from beneath her underclothing she withdrew the dark bottle. “I don’t know how potent it is anymore. It’s a couple of years old.”
“We need it to work for only a short while,” Asrar said, gingerly taking the half-full bottle of sedation. “From what we’ve been able to gather, sedation grows more unstable the older it gets.” In a murmur she added, “Rather surprising that this bottle is still intact—”
“What was that? Unstable? What happens?”
“Oh, nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about! However, the sooner I get it away, the better.”
If there was nothing to worry about, Mahrree privately wondered, then why was she cautiously wrapping the bottle in raw cotton before sliding it into a pocket?
“My husband was prepared to do something more drastic to eliminate the guards,” Asrar said as she fastened a hidden button on the pocket, “but I hope this will keep him from having to do so.”
Mahrree stared at the bulge that virtually disappeared on the woman’s thigh. “This day is full of irony. I tried many times to throw that bottle away, but each time I thought, ‘No, we’ll need it again.’ Now sedation from Idumea just may be our means of escape from it.”
“The Creator works in mysterious ways, Mahrree,” Asrar agreed. “He thinks of everything, and plans well in advance.”
Asrar left the house a few minutes later, slipping past the guards in the dark who didn’t even notice her.
And then the Shins waited.
They told stories and reminisced—carefully, so as to not cause Mahrree or Jaytsy to break into weeping again—about annoyances and people they’d never have to deal with again. By midnight they were convinced nowhere was worse than Edge. Good riddance.
Before Jothan arrived, Mahrree made one last sweep of the house, patting everything in the dark. The candles had been blown out, hopefully sending a signal to the soldiers that the Shins had gone to bed, and that the Briters were staying there for the night.
Mahrree sighed as she wandered the house that she had so loved, that had sheltered her for so long—
She expected to be more emotional about leaving it, but instead was surprised that she was so composed. It was just a house, but it deserved a proper goodbye.
It was in the study, while patting part of her father’s book collection, that her hand stopped on one book. She’d begun reading it a couple of years ago during one of Perrin’s bad nights. It was a tale from the Great War about a woman whose parents and sisters were discovered to be Guarders. The woman’s husband was an officer tasked to find and bring back his wife’s family. Mahrree had been mildly intrigued by the angry daughter who wanted her family to be captured and tried for their crimes; her husband who began to question the intentions of the Guarders—perhaps suspecting they were innocent people merely trying to run away, Mahrree mused now; his sergeant, eager for the king’s reward gold, who pushed the officer as hard as his wife had.
But she never finished the story, and now she realized she never would. She began to pull the book from the shelf, hoping in her final minutes to find out what happened—
“My darling wife, there’s no time.” Perrin’s large hand came over hers. “It’s simply too late.”
Reluctantly she nodded to the book whose ending she’d never know. “Sometimes it just hits me how much I’m leaving behind.”
“Remember, it’s only things. What you’re really attached to are the people who lived here, and they’re going with you.”
“True.” Another thought struck Mahrree. “Perrin, what about The Cat?”
He sighed. “Shem will try to get him to live at the fort. I haven’t even seen The Cat since midday meal. He was taking care of a mouse over at the Briters’. In any case, he’ll eat fine.”
“Are you going to miss him?”
“I think I will. When we get to Salem I guess we’ll have to find another kitten.”
---
But The Cat was the least of Perrin’s worries right now. He was feeling more antsy and eager as each minute slipped by. Genev and his guards and carriages were on their way, arriving in Edge by dawn. If Mahrree had known that, she wouldn’t have been so sentimental right now. She’d be clawing at the door to get it out of her way.
Peto’s voice came from the dark doorway. He had been spending his last few moments bouncing Relf’s kickball against his bedroom walls which, until yesterday, was against the rules. “Someone’s here. I guess it’s Jothan.”
Together, Perrin and Mahrree took deep breaths.
“This is it,” Perrin said, squeezing her arm. “The ending of everything, the beginning of everything—”
“Well then,” Mahrree said as brightly as possible, “let’s go.”
In the kitchen, where a small candle was burning, they found Jothan already greeting Jaytsy and Deck.
Peto stopped abruptly. “Father, he’s huge!” he whispered.
“I know. Good thing he’s on our side, isn’t it?” Perrin whispered back. “I’m not sure I could take him.”
Jothan heard him. “I wondered that myself last night,” he grinned. “And you must be Peto,” he said extending his hand. Peto took it warily. “Don’t worry, I am on your side.”
“Uh-huh,” said Peto, with great reservation.
Perrin caught Jothan’s eye. “I spoke with Shem last night, about a great many things.” He hesitated. Jothan had saved his body on one occasion, and saved his mind on another. Perrin owed him his life already twice, and now he was handing it over a third time.
Not knowing what else to say, Perrin extended his hand, hoping Jothan would understand that his handshake was more than just a show of faith. It was a sign of immense gratitude.
Almost sheepishly, Jothan shook his hand.
But Perrin was also curious. Still gripping it, he turned Jothan’s hand to see a thin white scar on his dark brown skin.
It was Perrin’s blade that had made that scar, seventeen years ago, when he blindly thrust his long knife behind him in a vain attempt to stab in the face the Guarder who was attacking him in the snowy forest. Perrin had been sent an anonymous note warning him there were twelve Guarders sent to kill his wife and daughter, but there’d been fourteen, instead. Salem knew that, and sent Perrin help in the form of dozens of men.
While Perrin didn’t know that, he’d suspected someone was helping him when he couldn’t eliminate the threat by himself. Someone had taken out that massive Guarder who had been choking Perrin at the end. There had been a shallow slice on the man’s face, but now it was obvious that Jothan had taken the brunt of Perrin’s slash in his hand. And then, without a groan of pain, Jothan stabbed Perrin’s Guarder in the throat and ran off.
Mahrree peered over to see in the faint light the scar Perrin had told her about earlier. “Dear Creator, it really was him!”
Peto glanced over as well. “Interesting,” was all he whispered.
Looking up into Jothan’s eyes, Perrin hoping he could convey enough admiration and appreciation.
Jothan just nodded once. “Now that that’s out of the way,” he said to the others, prying his hand from Perrin’s grip before he could say anything more about it, “let me tell you what’s next.”
Perrin grinned at the quick change of topic.
“I’ve taken care of the soldiers guarding the house,” Jothan said. “There were eight tonight—”
Perrin’s grin vanished. “What did you do?” It wasn’t as if they were still his soldiers, but he did know most of them.
“Sedation,” Jothan assured him. “Shem stole some from the surgeon. They each dropped quietly, but we’re not sure for how long.”
Perrin nodded in approval and wondered why Mahrree suddenly grew so fidgety.
“We’ll first go east to the canals at the far side of Edge. It’s important that we move very quietly,” Jothan explained. “Jaytsy, you best take care of your needs now. You won’t have the opportunity to do so again for some time.”
Jaytsy giggled. “I already did, ten minutes ago.”
Jothan tilted his head patiently. “Jaytsy, my wife was expecting six times. I’ve been moving women in your condition for five years. I know that ten minutes ago would be like eight hours to your husband. One more time. Please.”
Jaytsy nodded and rushed to the washing room.
“Sir,” Deckett said to Jothan, “my confidence in you just went up significantly. You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”
Jothan patted Deck on the back. “I do.”
But Peto folded his arms. “So . . . what exactly is it that you do?”
“Uh, Peto?” said Deck. “He just told us.”
“Yes, but is that all he does? Move people?”
“Just what are you getting at?”
Perrin cleared his throat. “That’s what I’m wondering, too, son.”
“I’m gathering information. Isn’t that what you should do before you start on some big change in life? Gather information about it?”
“Jothan,” Mahrree said, “may I apologize for my son? He’s been a bit . . .” She bobbed her head.
“I’ve been a bit . . .!” and Peto snapped his head back and forth.
But Jothan only smiled. “It’s been an unusual day for everyone, I’m sure.”
Jaytsy reappeared in the kitchen, and Jothan said to her, “Your journey on foot will be of a bit of a distance, but then you’ll have a comfortable ride the rest of the way,” he promised. “Let me know if you start having any kind of pains. But first, we pray.”
The Shins and Briters stared at each other as Jothan, without hesitation, dropped to his knees as if it were an everyday occurrence to announce a prayer and immediately begin one.
Quickly everyone else joined him, and Jothan said to Perrin, “This is your home, but do you mind if I offer it?”
Perrin shrugged his agreement.
“Dear Creator,” Jothan began before anyone could close their eyes, “we’re here, and we’re ready. We’ve done all we could to prepare, and now we turn it all over to Your hands. The culmination of many years’ work is coming together tonight, and dear Creator? It’s going to be messy, isn’t it!”
Mahrree was tempted to peek to see if the Creator were actually there, because Jothan’s tone was so convivial, as if he were good friends with the Creator.
Then again, Mahrree thought, shouldn’t we all be?
“—So if You could please help all of us keep our minds clear, our hearts open, and our stamina going, we’d be ever so grateful. And dear Creator,” Jothan continued, “if possible, would you please tell my grandfather that . . .”
Mahrree’s eyes popped open to see why Jothan had hesitated.
He was looking up at the ceiling and grinning broadly. “Tell my grandfather, ‘We’ve got them!’”
Perrin’s eyes flew open at that.
Peto murmured, “I knew it!”
Jothan chuckled—actually chuckled!—as he ended the prayer with, “Please help us to not mess any of this up. Thank you, sir, for this marvelous opportunity. Amen.”
“Amen,” was the quiet yet confused chorus from the Shins and Briters, who had never heard a prayer quite like that before.
“And now,” Jothan said, getting to his feet, “no more noise as we leave. No sound until we reach the safety of the forest.”
Peto gave his father a penetrating stare that he didn’t know what to do with, but there was no time to think but to follow Jothan, who noiselessly slipped out of the door to the back garden where four soldiers lay sprawled in the weeds.
Perrin quietly shut the door behind him and ran his hand along it. As soon as he let go of it, that would be the end—
He felt Mahrree squeeze his other hand, and she reached back and touched the door as well. “I’m sure they have oak doors in Salem,” she whispered.
Their children were already following Jothan out of the garden, stepping cautiously over two more soldiers. Mahrree let her hand slide down the door.
And Perrin removed his, clasping it into a fist. He gripped her hand tightly as he whispered in her ear, “Come Mrs. Terryp. Let’s find our new world.”
And neither of them looked back.
Chapter 3--“Shem told me you were
conveniently gullible.”