by Trish Mercer
Administrator Genev sat by the large window of the forward command office sipping his morning drink: tea spiced with ale. But there was so much ale in it that any bits of tea felt out of place in the mug.
From his vantage point, the stocky and squat Administrator of Loyalty could see up into the forest. The sudden rainstorm was already dissipating, and the coming dawn dimly illuminated the muddy horses and ragged men emerging from the trees. His lips twitched as he silently counted.
“Four more, private,” he said flatly, and the nervous soldier seated in the corner scribbled quickly.
“Horses or men, sir?”
“Both,” he answered. “What’s the total so far?”
The private cleared his throat. “Did you want the number of the men that went out last night, or the number of the rescue party we sent this morning?”
“Do have separate numbers for each?”
“Uh no, sir?”
“Then why the inane question?!”
The private swallowed and quickly read off, “Sixteen. We initially sent in thirty-three after the Shins in the forest, then you assigned fifty for the rescue party—”
“Yes, I know, Private.” He’d arrived several hours earlier than the fort had expected, to see them at their worst instead of their prepared best. And the worst, he discovered in the middle of the night when his three coaches rumbled in and he found soldiers and men in black racing through the village, was worse than he’d anticipated.
He set down his mug and continued to scan the forest’s edge, waiting for the captain. The tension of the soldiers was thick, even before Genev drove through the gates. He was skilled at picking up anxiety, and the levels were as high as the command tower. When the first soldiers came back yelling about marshy traps set by hundreds of Guarders, Genev knew Thorne had lost control. Ever since Shin had abruptly resigned, the soldiers had been fretting like lost children who couldn’t find their father. Thorne was nowhere near to filling that position.
Genev wondered if the one hundred reinforcements he ordered from Idumea would be enough. The fort needed an influx of new men who had not been influenced by either Shin or Thorne.
But more concerning was the changing situation. Genev was still in control of it, although the players were shifting slightly in their positions. It was still observable. His efforts would still impress Nicko Mal, he was sure.
The Administrator stood up and straightened his suit. The white ruffles of his collar and sleeves felt ridiculous among the soldiers’ simple jackets, but he had his own uniform to wear. Already he had conveniently lost the new vest with stripes. And, since the day looked like it may warm up, he’d have to remove the red jacket and find a way for the long coat tails to be accidently trampled by a horse.
Genev spied five more men, without horses, running from the forest further east. They dropped onto the grassy field in what he interpreted to be exhaustion mingled with terror. Genev sighed as two rider-less horses bounded out from the trees and continued in a fast gallop to the village.
“Five more men, two more horses,” he said in disgust, and scritching noises told him the tally was updated.
Genev turned to the large cabinet. He knew what he wanted wasn’t there, but the urge to search again for the Shin file, started by his predecessor Gadiman, nearly overwhelmed him.
That file had been guarded for years and then, on the eve of the Shins’ extradition to Idumea, it vanished. How Thorne could allow such an important document to be lost was beyond comprehension.
But Genev had his suspicions. During his interrogations that night, several soldiers admitted to seeing Sergeant Major Zenos leaving the office late the evening before.
The Quiet Man should have been under closer scrutiny since he’d been identified; no one was sure exactly where his loyalties were. Zenos himself probably didn’t know whose side he was on today.
And to have allowed a duplicitous Guarder spy to remain in the fort for so long wasn’t completely Captain Thorne’s fault. It was his father’s. Genev would deal with High General Thorne later.
At least Genev still had the duplicate records of the captain’s messages. He congratulated himself again for his prescience in making those copies and keeping them in two different locations. There was still enough evidence to convict the Shin woman ten times over.
And now making a case against the former colonel was greatly simplified since the Administrators adopted the Ideas and Association Laws.
Genev glanced at the murky sky. He’d hoped to be on his way to Idumea by now, but at least the trials couldn’t start without them.
Shouts below him from the fort’s compound signaled a new development. He glanced down at the men, then up to the forest.
A cluster of blue uniforms on horseback were riding hard for the fort. He couldn’t make out the individuals, but it was apparent by the way he rode that one of the riders was injured and not wearing a uniform.
If it was only one of the Shins, who would I want? Genev mused. The boy would be most disappointing. The woman had irritated his predecessor and himself with her sedition for years, but the rejection of the army by its new High General also burned on his mind.
Genev took another sip of his tea-less ale, straightened his hated ruffle, and decided that either one of the older Shins would be a pleasure to meet right now, especially writhing in pain.
“Private!” he barked.
The young man jumped in his seat.
“Sit here and keep track of the numbers as they come in. Add nine more horses and as many riders.”
Genev strode to the stairs. He smoothed what hair was left on the sides of his head, and made sure his boots pounded menacingly as he stomped down to the reception area. The soldiers milling there stopped their whispers as Genev bellowed, “See to the horses coming in! Some look lamed. Get to work!”
The soldiers fled out the doors as Genev marched into the compound as quickly as his short, thick legs would allow while still looking dignified. He reached the gates just as the party of horses and wounded came through them.
Shouts for the surgeon brought him from the hospital wing, still wiping his hands on a towel. “What are they bringing in now?” Dr. Frenulum intoned. “More nervous soldiers with bloodied noses?”
Genev focused on the group, trying to recognize faces. His lips pressed into a tight line when he saw the injured man. “Slag!”
“It’s the captain!” cried one of his accompanying soldiers.
“Slagging idiot!”
The horses came to a halt in the compound, and two men helped Captain Thorne, whose right arm was wrapped in his jacket. His white undershirt was muddied, ripped, and—oddly—scorched.
Genev was perplexed, and disappointed, to see no evidence of blood.
As the men carefully laid Captain Thorne on a waiting litter, his face twisted in pain.
Frenulum, staring in horror at Thorne’s wrapped arm, cried, “Bring him in immediately!” and he raced for the hospital wing. As the soldiers whisked Thorne away, Genev strode over to Thorne’s horse and took the reins.
“Lieutenant!” Genev shouted. “What happened here?”
A tall lieutenant with a name badge reading OFFRA stood at attention. “We were ambushed, sir. My men fled the forest, but I returned to retrieve the captain. We encountered unknown amounts—”
“What happened to Thorne, Lieutenant! His horse looks singed around the ears.”
“Lightning, sir. They were about to apprehend the colonel—”
Genev shot him a look.
“—I mean, Mr. Shin. I arrived as the captain drew his sword and was struck by lightning, sir.”
Genev stared at him. “He drew his sword in a lightning storm in the forest,” he reiterated slowly to make sure the lieutenant understood the stupidity of the act.
“Yes, sir,” Offra answered unsteadily. “Shin and the others remain, at this moment, unaccounted for.”
Something in Offra’s tone suggested he may
have been happy about that, but Genev was sure it was only anxiety for having to deal with such an important administrator. He tossed the reins to Offra and strode to the hospital wing, pushing past filthy soldiers who were peering through the treatment door to see the captain’s injuries.
“You have jobs to do and Guarders to chase!” Genev shouted. “Make sure no more are out there!”
He spun around to face Thorne and was unprepared for the sight. What first struck him was the stench of burnt flesh and hair. Thorne was biting down on a wooden dowel trying not to thrash as the surgeon poured together several colored liquids in a bottle.
The surgeon’s assistant rushed in with dripping wet towels and gently placed them on Thorne’s right hand and arm. The limb was nearly unrecognizable, covered in charred flesh.
Remembering something, Genev fished around in one of his pockets, the only reason he still wore the red coat, and pulled out a small bottle which he handed to the surgeon.
“Add it to your mixture. It’s a new formula which increases the state of relaxation. The Administrator over Health and Wellness gave me several samples. Give Thorne all of this one.”
Dr. Frenulum nodded his thanks, added it to his mixture, shook it up quickly, and dashed it over to the captain. He helped Thorne to sit up so he could guzzle down the liquid.
“In just a few moments you’ll feel nearly nothing,” Frenulum assured him. “And in less than half an hour you will be in a deep sleep. This is supposed to be more effective than sedation. We’ll work on your injury when you’re unconscious.”
Thorne began breathe more steadily as he lay back down.
Frenulum’s face was grave as he gingerly replaced a wet towel on the blackened arm. “Administrator,” he said, “whatever you have to say should be said now before the captain loses consciousness.”
Thorne hadn’t noticed Genev’s presence until then, and he flicked him only a glance. “My written report will have to wait.”
Genev had little sympathy for incompetence. “Where are Shin and that woman?”
“Up on the mountain, if they survived, which I doubt. The forest’s full of lethal traps. You’re welcome to go find out for yourself.”
“So you’ve lost them, then.”
“I can get them back. I’ve already sent soldiers to bring their daughter here. She’s ready to birth at any moment, and I have no doubt she’ll be willing to help us find her parents.”
“What about Sergeant Major Zenos?”
“Dead,” Thorne said. “Killed him myself. He was a traitor, just as I suspected.” He cringed in pain. “All of this was his doing, I’m sure of it. His and that woman’s! The colonel was just so blind!”
Genev felt his first sense of satisfaction for the day. This wasn’t exactly to plan, but still within his control. “Where’s Zenos’s body?”
“Up in the forest,” Thorne said, grimacing in pain. “Again, you’re welcome to go retrieve it. His head rolled some distance, but you might find it near a poisoned pond.”
Not entirely confident that the captain was capable of decapitation, Genev said, “Show me his blood on your sword.”
“You’ll see nothing on that useless piece of steel.”
Genev noticed a sword, or what had been one, on the floor. He picked up the bent and charred metal. The hilt remained mostly intact, but a blown section above it suggested an exit route for the lightning bolt. He tossed it on the floor where it clanged dully.
“It’s a miracle you survived the strike,” the surgeon said. “I’m surprised the charge didn’t continue through your body.”
“Miracle?” Genev scoffed. “I assure you, there were no miracles last night. There may be chance, there may be luck, but everything can be attributed to planning, execution, and timing. Or lack thereof,” he added bitterly.
Thorne didn’t respond.
Two soldiers came to the door. “Captain Thorne, sir?”
Thorne’s eyes popped open and he attempted to sit up. “Well?”
The soldiers hesitated. “We regret to inform you that Shin’s daughter and her husband are nowhere to be found.”
Thorne’s mouth dropped open in dismay. “But Radan saw them running back . . . she may be birthing! Send someone to the village’s Office of Family—”
“Already did,” one of the soldiers said. “No one’s seen the Briters since last night. But the searches are continuing throughout the village, sir.” He paused before he let drop what he’d been holding back. “Guarders were seen wearing their clothes. Likely decoys, and probably who Lieutenant Radan thought he saw. A few Guarders were discovered leaving their house during the night . . .” He trailed off when he saw the devastation in the captain’s face.
“No!” he whimpered, and a drop of water slipped from his eye.
Genev noticed. He pivoted to hover over the captain, whose blond hair was blackened in patches, and disintegrating.
“You had over one hundred men who could not find an expecting girl shuffling through the village?”
Thorne was not to be humiliated. “There were Guarders everywhere in the village, and even more in the forest. And her house?” He shook his head, the effects of the surgeon’s mixture beginning to confuse his thoughts. “After I killed Zenos. After the lightning . . . there were dozens, everywhere. They trapped us. Marshes. Steam vents. Mud volcanoes. This . . . this hole, this cavern . . . said they’d push us in. We got away. They let us get away—”
“What did they look like?” Genev interrupted.
“Black! All black,” Thorne’s words slurred slightly.
The surgeon, his assistants, and the two soldiers who delivered the bad news about the Briters listened in.
“They knew the forest. We were . . . so lost,” Thorne struggled with the words. “But I’ll learn more. I’ll train the soldiers. Idumea will be impressed. With their new major.”
“We’ll see about that,” Genev said, his upper lip curling. “Remarkable return the Guarders have made, isn’t it? And they came to take the Shins, naturally. For revenge about Moorland, I’ve heard?” He walked around the captain slowly. “I’ve discovered you had a relationship with . . . Jaytsy, was it?”
Thorne’s eyes widened at that.
“Administrator,” Dr. Frenulum said steadily, “the captain’s compromised right now. You can see how his eyes are glassy. Perhaps this isn’t the best time—”
Genev shifted his flinty glare to the surgeon. “I do my best work when my guests are compromised. Otherwise, they’d never confess. The bottle of relaxation I had you include helps people loosen their tongues and remember their thoughts. Would you like to try some? Every doctor should be familiar with what he administers, after all.”
Dr. Frenulum took a step back and cast an almost sympathetic look at Captain Thorne.
Genev continued his slow pace around Thorne’s cot. “You keep very thorough personal records, Captain. You are to be commended. You also should be more careful with what you record. Tell me, why did Jaytsy Shin marry a farmer while you were away at The Dinner last year?”
Thorne lay in brooding silence until the words burbled up all on their own. “Zenos said she loved him.”
“I’ve not yet been able to figure out that turn of events,” Genev continued. “It would’ve been such an advantage to be wedded to the colonel’s daughter. But you already knew that, from what I read. You see,” he circled the cot like a patient vulture, “I wonder if your affection for this girl, and maybe even the baby she’s carrying,” Genev paused to give Thorne a thin smile, “affected your judgment last night? Did the Shin family escape because of your past attachment?”
Thorne’s chin trembled, as if to hold back the words that dribbled out. “I tried. I tried. The soldiers surrounding the Shins’ house . . . sedated. Radan discovered them. Everything fell apart. Must have been the work of the Guarders. But I wanted to deliver the Shins. The Administrators . . .” He tried to regain himself. “The Shins got away . . . bec
ause the Administrators took too long.”
Genev was unmoved. “The Administrators do nothing but with great care. Many provisions had to be just right in order to pass the laws that could destroy them. Our timing was impeccable. Yours, however, was not. So, the girl. Was she ever yours?”
Thorne paused before he shook his head in humiliation.
Genev nodded, satisfied. He’d have to tell the Administrator of Health and Wellness that he’d perfected the dosage. “And so you can’t claim the baby then?”
“No,” Thorne whispered wretchedly. “But. But . . . was going. Going to take him as my own.”
“Pass off another man’s son as your own? That is desperate.”
“Perrin’s . . . grandson.”
“Ah. Perhaps something to that, but still—not of your blood. Tsk, tsk, Captain Thorne. So many missed opportunities.” He took a deep breath. “One of the Administrative provisions, to assign commandants to forts where the Administrators feel extra attention is needed, appears quite prescient. Since I have no reason to return to Idumea this morning, I’ll be staying on to provide that extra attention, to bring this fort back into order, and to inform High General Thorne and Chairman Mal when I feel you’re ready to become Major Thorne. But I have a feeling that will take a very, very long time.”
The devastation on Thorne’s face was worthy of a portrait. But enough, Genev decided. He took a step back and said in a tone he assumed expressed kindness, “Because your sword is destroyed we will replace it with former Colonel Shin’s.”
Thorne scoffed a slurred laugh. “That was Shin’s sword! High General Relf. Took it to finish the job. On Mrs. Shin. Because he wouldn’t . . .” His lips kept moving as his eyes slowly shut, and the surgeon’s mixture took its full effect.
Genev looked down at the mangled steel. Come to think of it, he’d seen that ornate hilt years ago, strapped to the side of General Relf Shin. He kicked it away as he left the hospital wing. Out in the compound he observed another group of soldiers come running in, this time from Edge.
“No sign of them in the south western quadrant, sir.”
But before Genev could respond, another group of soldiers came hurrying in on horseback, shrieking and shouting, and waving cloth.
“What’s going on?” Genev demanded.
“It’s the Shins!” one of the soldiers cried out. He waved a torn piece of dark cloth. “They said this was his! He’s dead!”
“Who said what?” Genev snatched the cloth from the man’s hand and held it up for inspection. It was a piece of a work shirt, torn and bloodied. He looked up to the other soldiers who also held cloth in similar condition.
A lieutenant rushed over and wrenched the cloth out of Genev’s hands. Ignoring Genev’s affronted, “Hey!” Offra whimpered, “It is his! Dear Creator, I saw him yesterday, wearing a shirt just like this.”
The lieutenant began to sway as if he'd fall over, but a nearby sergeant steadied him as Genev grabbed the cloth back.
“Where is he? Where’s Shin?”
“They said his body is lost,” another soldier told him shakily. “In a crevice. Bottomless. All of them are gone.”
“According to whom?!”
“Guarders, sir,” the soldier trembled. “Their revenge for Moorland.” The two soldiers with him shook as if they were about to burst into childish tears.
“With me! Now!” Genev shouted, and the three men dismounted and followed Genev into the reception area of the command tower, while the rest of the soldiers stood stunned in the compound.
“What more did the so-called Guarders say?”
The men looked nervously at each other. “That all of them died. All of them are gone,” one of them volunteered. “They had some other clothes, torn and bloodied. Something blue linen, something orange, some other work clothes. A few of them were laughing,” and he focused on the floor under his boots.
Genev pondered this turn of events. It was out of his control. Things should never be out of his control. Nicko Mal’s experiments were all about the Shins.
Genev began to feel edgy. The village was aptly named. He was supposed to be calling the shots, not some trumped up Guarders—
And where the slag did they come from anyway?! All of the Guarders were destroyed in the forests above Moorland. Genev had looked for survivors himself. So where did these dozens—maybe even hundreds—of men in black suddenly come from?
Maddening, that’s what it was. And worst of all, it wasn’t fair. Shin wasn’t supposed to be destroyed by Guarders with a strange sense of entrepreneurialism. That was Genev’s job!
No, Genev thought as the soldiers in front of him began to quake from silent tears. This was still his project. Guarders or no Guarders, Genev was still in charge.
A new story was forming, because he’d spent much of the night reading a curious letter that Shin had left for Zenos upon his death, from something the private in the office called “the death drawer.”
“The three of you—follow me back outside.”
Obediently the soldiers trailed after Genev who found a ready and silent audience, waiting.
“It’s confirmed,” Genev announced loudly, standing to his full height, for what it was worth. “Details will be forthcoming, once Captain Thorne can continue his briefing after he’s recovered, but I can inform you that Sergeant Major Zenos was a Guarder spy, killed in the very act by Captain Thorne!”
Several soldiers sat hard on the ground in a shocked stupor.
Genev held back a smile as the new truth unfolded in his mind. “Zenos was also working closely with Mrs. Shin,” he declared. “It seems there was a relationship there.”
Genev knew he was on the correct path when he heard gasps and even a mumbled, “No wonder Sarge was always at their house!”
“Poor Colonel Shin. He deserved so much better,” another soldier whispered behind Genev.
Genev waited until all eyes were back on him again, and he knew the tragic end of The Hero of Edge.
“Mrs. Shin, in her despair that her companion was executed by Captain Thorne, held a soldier hostage at knife point. It is still unclear, but it seems she was felled by several arrows. Her body tumbled into a crevice, and our dear former Colonel Shin, still devoted to his unfaithful wife, attempted to rescue her. He, too, was lost. Here you can see the remains of his shirt, stained with her blood, and caught and torn on a bush as he fell after her.”
“No!”
“That can’t be!”
“It’s not true!”
“Colonel!”
Genev nodded gravely. “Their bodies are, sadly, irretrievable.”
Some of the soldiers began to openly weep. Others hid their faces in their hands. One soldier punched the timbers behind him. Still others shook their heads in disbelief.
Especially Lieutenant Offra, who stood openmouthed.
Genev caught his eye. “We also have evidence that the Guarders took the Shins’ son and the Briters as some sort of retribution. We have torn bits of their clothing, stained with blood, and the Guarders’ claims that they have killed them all.”
A few soldiers who had remained stoic began to sag and crumble.
“Today you’ll hear many versions of what happened last night,” Genev continued, focusing on Offra. “It’ll take time to sort all the details and clarify what exactly happened. Lieutenant!”
Offra’s mouth clapped shut and he stood at attention.
“As of this moment,” Genev announced, “I am now in charge of Fort Shin. I will remain as commandant until Thorne recovers. Offra, recall the soldiers sent out to search Edge. Once that other lieutenant has returned, I want him brought to me for briefing. Radan, wasn’t it? And make sure the message is received by soldier and citizen alike: The Shin family is officially gone.”
---
Jon Offra could only nod dumbly, return some sort of semblance of a salute—was he supposed to salute a commandant?—then head out of the fort in a half stupor to retrieve Ra
dan and whatever soldiers were still searching houses.
But Jon found himself staring at the sky. He couldn’t get out his mind the man the soldiers had captured, the one in the mottled green clothing. He had told them to look at the sky, that it wasn’t blue.
The man had been right, Jon realized as he stopped in the middle of the road. He had glanced up when the man had first said that, seeing between the trees that the sky was black, and yet still he automatically thought of it as blue.
And now, now there were far too many colors, with the rising sun bouncing off the drifting clouds to generate nearly every other hue possible, and then . . .
Oh, of course. Now a rainbow.
Jon couldn’t decide if the sky was taunting him or trying to prove a point. He was too overcome with exhaustion and confusion to decide. It was, however, definitely not just blue.
It would take days to sort out all he saw, but he knew one thing for certain that horrible morning: the sky would never look the same again.
Chapter 7--“Do you still trust me?”