by Trish Mercer
For the next couple of days Perrin learned what a ‘normal’ life looked like. He watched the sun rise over the eastern mountains. Then while his wife and daughter planted gardens in the morning, he built fences with Deck and Peto for the eighty acres. At midday meal he helped Mahrree compile a list of the world’s high and low points for the past one-hundred-twenty years, to present as a series of lectures Professor Kopersee had already arranged for Mahrree to deliver to all upper school teachers during their break next week
After midday meal he saw off Peto for the last few weeks of school in Salem, where he learned far more than he ever did in Edge, and most efficiently in only three hours each afternoon. Then he spent the afternoons finishing Deck’s house with the men of the community, while Deck traveled to different ranches to select cattle. In the late afternoon Rector Yung came to help Peto prepare the land for an orchard, and Perrin was tasked to move larger rocks out of the way.
Normal life, Perrin decided five days after their arrival in Salem, was bliss.
“I’m still waiting for the stress to begin,” he said as he sat down to a late dinner after nailing in the last shingles on the Briters’ roof. “But I really don’t think it’ll come. By the way, Deck and Jaytsy can move in tomorrow night. Some women from the neighborhood are there now, sweeping it out for the furniture to be delivered tomorrow.”
“Jaytsy will be thrilled,” Mahrree said, sitting down across from him. “She’s out with Deck and Peto bringing in his herd. You better hurry up before they arrive, so we won’t miss the parade of steak.”
Perrin was already chewing. “After we get them moved in,” he garbled and swallowed, “I can claim my office and start securing Salem. We could really use towers here, I’ve decided, and we can try smaller banners for the alphabet to spell out short messages.”
“And here you thought you’d have nothing to do in Salem.”
Perrin chuckled. “I’ve also been thinking a lot about Lorixania,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ve been listening to the men talking while they worked on the house, discussing somebody’s horse that’s down, or how someone else’s new fence design looks nice, and I realized I could have spent my whole life here instead of Idumea and Edge. I could have known all these people who worry and work and help each other as if they really are all family. I’ve been wondering how my life would have been different had my great-great-grandmother followed her father instead.”
He looked off at the wall for a minute, his eyes searching for a stone to stare at but only seeing wood. He settled for a knothole. “All because of her choices, my family for generations lived a life less than it could have been. Did she really believe she was on the right side? Grandfather Pere remembered her as a boy, and he said she was always sad. I wonder if she ever regretted her decision. It took us four generations to get back to where we should have been.
“I also wondered if Lek’s failure was behind the king’s anger. Yudit said that Lorixania was quite outspoken. What if her family leaving, and her making a fuss about it, caused so much of what our society experienced over the next several years? Just a few people’s choices can affect thousands. Maybe even more.”
“Maybe, but maybe not,” Mahrree said. “People make mistakes, but the Creator seems to know those mistakes are going to be made and prepares a way back. The point is, we made it back. I don’t know what my ancestor Barnos was thinking when he settled in Edge. Why did he leave the Zenos family? Then again, if our lives didn’t play out the way they did, how would we have ever met each other? There must have been some Divine help, don’t you think?”
Perrin stopped staring at the knothole and looked at his wife. “That’s why I married you, isn’t it? You always see the sides I can’t.”
Mahrree reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “And you always see the sides I don’t notice. Works pretty well that way, doesn’t it? But really, Perrin, I doubt an officer named Shin marrying a loud and outspoken woman really could have changed the course of the world, now, do you?” She batted her eyelashes.
“Who knows? It happened just recently! Apparently we Shins are attracted to loud Zenoses.”
Mahrree laughed. “But I didn’t change the course of the world. You kept reminding me that no one in Idumea cared about a little woman in Edge.”
“But they did, Mahrree,” said Perrin, suddenly sober. “They always did. Gadiman’s file was proof. I’m sorry I never realized that.”
“Don’t be. Look where it got us. Now eat your dinner. Cattle are coming and they don’t want to know you had beef.” Perrin wasn’t quite up to going meatless that year.
Soon after, Mahrree and Perrin sat on their front porch watching one hundred bulls, cows, and calves noisily moo their way down their dirt road, kicking up dust and occasionally protesting the snap of Deck’s whip as he and several other men steered the livestock into the pasture behind his new house.
Shem’s father Boskos stood at the gate waiting to funnel in the cattle. He grinned as he saw another herd coming to enjoy the land that he used for so many years.
Deck, sitting proudly atop of Clark who helpfully nickered at a few errant calves, looked as if he’d never stop smiling.
But Peto, with Jaytsy in the wagon next to him, looked as if he’d never stop scowling. From their position at the back of the herd, the scent was considerably stronger.
But Jaytsy didn’t notice as she beamed at her husband silhouetted in the setting sun.
“So,” Mahrree said as she coughed away another dust ball, “these are our new neighbors. A little, um, earthy, aren’t they?”
By the time the cattle were settled in, it was fully dark. Mahrree didn’t recognize the man who came up to her porch until he spoke.
“So what do you think of your son-in-law’s herd?”
“Guide Gleace? How long have you been here?”
“I arrived a little while ago and brought someone along to meet you, but then we saw that stray calf and got caught up in all the excitement of catching it. I’m a little dirtier than I like to be, but—” he brushed the muck off his trousers apologetically.
“But nothing. Come on in and clean up,” Mahrree said, holding open the door.
The guide beckoned to someone in the dark, and two more men came up to the door.
Mahrree recognized Shem who was in deep conversation with the second man who was in his early thirties.
“Mahrree,” Shem said, “is Perrin around?”
“He should be back soon,” she said as she let the men into the house and showed them to the washing room. “He was trying to pick out tomorrow night’s dinner. I’m sure Deck will be shooing him back in at any moment now.”
Perrin did come in the back door a few minutes later, wearing a sheepish grin, with his son and daughter pushing him.
“I told you, not until later in the season! And only one that Deck hasn’t grown fond of! Mother,” Jaytsy put her hands on her hips, “he was out there outlining the rump of the biggest bull with a piece of chalk and labeling it Perrin’s. He’s lucky the cattle of Salem are afraid of him too, or he would’ve been wearing a horn in his gut!”
The guide scratched his head. “Cattle are afraid of Perrin? Interesting. Maybe we could use him when it’s time to corral the lazy ones wandering in the hills.”
Jaytsy shrugged. “Perhaps. Deck spent a whole Raining Season trying to understand why they run from him, but we didn’t come to any conclusions.”
“That’s because you were too busy staring at each other with gooey eyes,” Peto reminded her.
“Oh yeah,” she giggled. “That’s probably true.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Shem said. “This is someone I want you to meet—Caraka Mondell. Actually, Mahrree and Perrin, he’s already met you, but you probably don’t realize it.”
Mahrree analyzed the man. His face was rather plain and not distinguished in any way. Average. Quite overly average, if that were possible. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”
/> Caraka smiled. “Most people don’t remember or even notice me. That’s why I was so good at my work. But your situation rendered you even less likely to notice me. When we were in the same room you were more nervous than any woman I ever saw. At one point you were so pale I was sure you were about to pass out. I tried several times to make eye contact and assure you all was well, but you rarely looked up.” He waited for her to put it all together.
Mahrree frowned. “Idumea? The office outside the Main Conference Room?”
Caraka nodded. “I was the recorder. Have been for many years.”
Perrin folded his arms. “I don’t remember you.”
“No surprise there. Some people have a face that’s unforgettable. Mine is unmemorable. Then again, the first time you were there you were accompanying your wife, who you marched out quite angrily if I remember correctly.”
Perrin winced at the memory and Mahrree squeezed his arm.
“And the second time you came in, you were wielding a sword ready to kill Chairman Nicko Mal. At least, that was our guess. Or Gadiman. When you left you were a rather changed man.”
Perrin nodded and bit his lip. “Not my best moments, were they.”
“Actually, I thought they were,” Caraka grinned. “I was a bit disappointed you didn’t bloody that ridiculous table—” He stopped when he saw the guide, whose expression changed only in his eyes.
They had darkened.
“I’m sorry,” he said to the guide. “It’s probably a good thing I’ve come home. I’m sounding too much like Idumea.”
“We’ll work it out of you.” Gleace patted him on the back.
“Come sit down. Tell us what else you remember,” Mahrree winked at her husband.
“There is some news,” Guide Gleace said, with exceptional heaviness. “And considering what Caraka knows, I thought he may be able to provide Perrin some information as he secures Salem. Caraka’s out of work now.”
Shem turned to him. “I just thought you were here on leave.”
“No. There have been a great many changes in the world since last week,” Caraka said darkly. “And I’ve left for good.”
“I’m calling everyone home except for two scouts who will stay working the stables for the Administrators,” Gleace announced to the surprised family. “I recently learned that’s a good place for gaining information. I’m sending reinforcements to help Jothan get the last of our people out of the world during the next few weeks, until things quiet down a bit.”
“Why?” Mahrree said, trepidation welling inside her to see the guide so concerned. For the past week she’d forgotten that the rest of the world still swirled to the south of them. “What’s happened?”
Guide Gleace sighed. “As you know, we smuggled you out of Edge on the pretense of ‘killing you’—”
“Which is quite the honor,” Caraka grinned mischievously. “The last person we ‘killed’ was Guide Pax.”
Gleace managed a dim smile. “That’s true. But a problem has arisen. You see, we created your death as a cover for your disappearance. However, it seems that Administrator Genev, who has decided to make Edge his permanent base for the time, has concocted his own story.” With that, the guide looked intently at Caraka.
Caraka’s previous grin was replaced with apprehension.
“They need to know,” Gleace prodded him. “It may help Perrin with his future plans.”
The guide sat down on a chair, an air of gloom accompanying him, and Caraka reluctantly sat in another next to him. Jaytsy and Peto sat on one of the sofas, and Perrin and Shem sat on the other, with an anxious Mahrree between them.
Caraka leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I’m not sure where I should start.”
“Start with Idumea’s official story,” Guide Gleace suggested. “Get it out of the way.”
Caraka nodded and exhaled. “There is now an official story as to what happened to the Shin family. Your house was searched and . . . they found Terryp’s map.”
Perrin rubbed his forehead. “What did they do with it?”
“Sent it to Idumea for evaluation. But the story released by the Administrators is that it is the original one.”
“Good,” Perrin’s shoulders sagged. “It just may be preserved still. So now I’m a traitor?” he asked with a pitiful smile.
Caraka shook his head. “No, not the Hero of Edge. You are still a hero, but a tragic one now.”
“Really?” Perrin said. “And how did that happen?”
Jaytsy and Peto leaned forward on the sofa, fascinated.
Caraka squirmed. “The story is, the map wasn’t Colonel Shin’s. It was Sergeant Major Zenos’s.”
“Mine?” Shem exclaimed. “Well, that’s not fair. I didn’t even get to see the original.”
“Poor Shem.” Mahrree chuckled and patted him on the knee.
Caraka saw it and, oddly, winced before looking away.
“Why would it be in my house if it was Shem’s?” Perrin asked, insulted that he didn’t get credit—or blame—for possessing the map.
Caraka shifted in his seat, feeling the pressure of so many stares. He shielded his eyes before he said the next part. “Because Shem gave it to Mrs. Shin.”
“What?” Now it was Mahrree’s turn to exclaim. “Why me?”
Caraka looked pleadingly at the guide.
“Remember, Caraka, you’re only telling them the official story. You’re not behind any of this.”
Caraka groaned and closed his eyes so as to not see the line of victims who sat before him innocent of his news as he blurted, “So that Mrs. Shin could run away with the sergeant major!”
Every mouth in the room fell open, except for the guide’s and Caraka’s.
“Finish it,” said Gleace grimly.
“According to the Administrators, Mrs. Shin and the sergeant major were . . . together for quite some time. The colonel followed them into the forest to stop their togetherness.” Caraka made some vague hand motions and then tried to wipe it all away.
Mahrree and Shem slowly turned to look at each other.
Peto snorted a guffaw.
Jaytsy slapped a hand over her mouth.
Perrin’s breathing began to quicken.
Horrified, Mahrree stared at Shem.
People in Edge now thought that she and him—
Feeling as if she’d just been punched in the gut, Mahrree leaned toward her husband as Shem leaped off the sofa as if stabbed by it.
“Wha—? How—? Why—?” Shem spluttered as he paced the floor. He instinctively walked back to his spot on the sofa, saw Mahrree, and spun around to not face her.
Mahrree covered her eyes with her hand, but watched Shem between her fingers.
Jaytsy patted the seat next to her as Shem stomped aimlessly around the room. He threw his hands up in the air when he saw her. Instead of sitting, he marched to the eating room, took a chair, and slammed it down in the farthest corner of the gathering room.
Plopping himself on it, he bounced his legs nervously. “I never. Not once did I ever . . . I—”
“Shem!” Perrin said sharply. “Enough! No one said you did!”
Shem leaped to his feet again. “The Administrators said I . . . that we—” He pointed at Mahrree who was still so humiliated she wasn’t sure if she’d ever come out of hiding. “I don’t believe this!” He spun to Caraka. “So all the soldiers in Edge now think that I and Mahr—”
The only consolation Mahrree felt at that moment was that Shem was so shocked he couldn’t bring himself to say her name.
Caraka, wincing so fiercely that his face screwed itself into nearly a slit, nodded.
“No!” Shem wailed as he sat down hard on his chair. “Do you know how often I told them about the importance of being honorable and exact in everything? Do you know what I sound like now? The biggest hypocrite in the world!” He hid his face in his hands.
“For how long?” Perrin calmly asked Caraka. “How long were She
m and Mahrree having an affair—”
That terrible word brought Mahrree out of hiding. “Don’t say it like that!”
Perrin kissed her forehead and put a comforting arm around her. His composure astounded her. “I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant to say is, What have the Administrators suggested about the length of the . . . um . . . uh . . .”
“Togetherness?” Peto tried to stifle his laughter, but he couldn’t, even with his sister jabbing him. “I’m sorry, but it’s so funny. Come on, Mother and Uncle Shem? Together? Who would believe that? This is hilarious.”
“Maybe in a few weeks, Peto,” said Perrin heavily.
“Seasons.” Mahrree hid behind her hand again, realizing that her children had just heard about her supposed . . .
“Years,” Shem said quietly in the corner, his head hanging low.
Peto scoffed. “I don’t get it. Just laugh it off. Another stupid administrative lie. We’ve dealt with those before.”
His sister glared at him. “And what lies about you have they spread?”
“This feels . . . different,” Mahrree murmured. One part of her wanted to shake it off, chuckle at the inanity, but this was no ordinary cut that would quickly heal. It was a stab in her gut, and that’s where she felt it, aching and twisting.
Caraka cleared his throat. “It’s been suggested that they had been together for quite some time, since before the land tremor. You see, it helps to explain the unusual behavior of the colonel, especially after his parents’ death. The story is, he was suspecting the affai—together—relationship,” he finally decided to call it, “so his erratic behavior was connected to that, not to the death of his parents. The attack on Moorland was an attempt to impress his wife to come back to him, but instead it revealed that Shem Zenos was . . . a Guarder spy. Colonel Shin decided to keep that a secret to preserve his reputation.”
Shem’s head fell even lower.
Perrin only shifted in his seat as Mahrree wilted miserably into him.
Caraka sighed before he continued. “Mrs. Shin’s recent outburst about the findings of the expedition was an attempt to convince her husband to leave Edge, to get him out of the way. When he refused to support her at the platform, he was demonstrating his devotion to the Administrators. When he resigned, it was his last desperate attempt to win back his wife. He was torn between his ‘two loves:’ his wife and the army.”
Peto’s scoffing chuckle didn’t spread to anyone else.
“Since Mrs. Shin and the sergeant major were—” Caraka made some more vague hand movements, “they made plans to abandon the colonel and his children. The map was to tell Mrs. Shin where to meet her lov—uh, Shem.”
“They were to run away to Terryp’s land together?” Perrin shook his head at the absurdity.
Caraka shrugged.
“So everybody in Edge,” Mahrree said from behind her hiding hand, “now believes that I was . . . with Shem—”
“Uh, no,” Caraka said quietly. “I’m sorry to say everyone in the world now believes you were with Shem. Messages went out to the forts a couple of days ago, notices to the villages a little after that. There’s already talk of another play.”
That was all Mahrree could take. “No!”
Shem’s head couldn’t hang any lower without scraping the ground.
“I guess you didn’t need to hear that part,” Caraka mumbled apologetically.
“Everything I ever said to the recruits,” Shem murmured, “everything I ever said will now sound like a lie.”
Mahrree gasped. “My students! Oh, what must my students think?! They had such foul mouths and minds as it was, and now?”
Even Peto winced at that. “But hey, why do we care what the world thinks?” he tried again. “Isn’t that the point? Why we left? To not care about the world anymore?”
“I know I shouldn’t,” Mahrree said, “but I just can’t help it. I do. I care.”
Next to her, Perrin sighed heavily in grudging agreement.
“But why are they saying all these things about Mother and Shem?” Jaytsy wondered. “Why not just let them die in the forest?”
The answer hit Mahrree again in the gut, and she didn’t think she’d eat again for days. “I know why. He got it right,” she nodded to Shem, whose name caught in her throat. “Everything we ever said will be considered a lie. What I claimed on the platform? That can all now be dismissed because of what kind of a woman I have been ‘revealed’ to be. It’s really deviously clever. They couldn’t destroy my words, so they destroyed my reputation which rendered my words meaningless. And my husband, the beloved of the world, died in some tragic way in the forest, right?”
Caraka nodded. “Trying to retrieve your body, which was riddled with arrows, which then fell into a cavern. You were both lost.”
“Rather romantic.” Perrin tried to smile.
But Mahrree couldn’t. “So Perrin Shin, who should have been High General of Idumea, falls because he naively followed his treacherous wife, and was deceived by his closest friend. He remains the hero the Administrators couldn’t hope to destroy. I, on the other hand, was a far easier and more expendable target.”
“Very good. Maybe you could have been an officer.” Perrin kissed her again.
“Or worked for Genev,” Peto whispered to his sister.
“So who’s behind all of this new story?” Jaytsy wondered.
“Genev helped, I’m sure, but I’ve been thinking a lot over the past week,” Perrin said, “about the world. If it’s any one person, I think it’s Nicko Mal. I remembered something the other day, from back when I was in Command School. He came to our diplomacy class to deliver a lecture on human nature. It was before he took over the government from King Oren, but he must have already been in the thick of planning it. He said humans have no extra ability or strength to look fear in the eye and say, Come get me. He spent half an hour explaining how humans are just complex animals, that people can be manipulated to respond to stresses just like a horse, and to be led like one as well. He had done experiments with dogs. He’d strike a bell with a stick, then strike the dogs. Soon he only needed to strike the bell and the dogs cowered. Eventually he just appeared, without even a stick, and the dogs hid in terror. He said humans were no different, and could never be anything better.
“So, naturally, I spent the next fifteen minutes arguing with him that because humans were the children of the Creator, their potential and abilities were far greater than mere animals. He just rolled his eyes whenever I said ‘Creator.’ I was furious, and Mal was irritated that I challenged his position. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if we aren’t all just part of one his grand experiments. In this case, we’re the dogs.”
“I know you have a remarkable ability to irritate people, Father,” Peto spoke up, “but you really think all of this was Chairman Mal’s attempt to prove his point to you?”
“It’s a little more complex than that,” Mahrree decided. “But for some reason that sounds right. What lengths some people will go for entertainment.”
“And ego,” Perrin said.
“Chairman Mal had access to everything,” Shem reminded them. “All the Administrators, control over the army, all the files—”
“Mrs. Shin’s file,” Caraka added.
Perrin shook his head. “We destroyed it.”
“You destroyed Gadiman and Genev’s file on her,” Caraka told him. “But you didn’t get Captain Thorne’s. Apparently he had a spy working for him, telling him everything that Mrs. Shin taught, and didn’t teach, and taught extra in her classes.”
“Lannard!” Mahrree whispered. “He was working for Thorne, exercising his horse.”
“What happened to us?” Jaytsy asked, nodding to her brother.
Caraka brightened a little to have a different subject. “Guarders. Turns out they incorporated some of our story. We had said that Guarders kidnapped your family from their houses, but Genev twisted that as well. Your father was hoping,
according to the Administrators, to use you and your brother to help retrieve your mother who had already run away with Shem. But at least now everyone also believes the Guarders have returned, in full force, so that’s effectively scaring off people from trying to find their own ways to the ruins.”
“So what happened to Shem in this new story?” Peto asked a little too eagerly.
Shem’s head bobbed.
“Still killed by Thorne,” Caraka said. “The scouts took care of Dormin’s body. Since it was dark, no one who witnessed the event seems to question that it wasn’t Shem who was killed. Or they were threatened to state that it was.”
Peto frowned. “I supposed that makes Thorne quite the hero, huh? Killing the traitorous, adulterous Shem—”
Shem’s head came up, a fierce look in his eyes.
“A little,” Caraka admitted. “But not as much as he probably wishes.”
“So he’s not in charge of the fort?” Shem asked.
“No, not at all. He’s still recovering. Apparently he was struck by a lightning bolt. His right arm was so badly burned it’s permanently lamed.”
Shem winced, as did Mahrree, but Perrin’s and Jaytsy’s faces remained immovable.
“Caraka,” Perrin said, “I’m sure it was my father’s sword that he used. Do you know what may have happened to it?”
“Rumor is that it was General Shin’s sword that the lightning struck, when Thorne drew it to come after you. But it’s damaged beyond repair.”
Perrin nodded once, in satisfaction. “I never thought it would tolerate taking an innocent life. Yes, I know that sounds strange, and I know it’s not alive, but somehow I feel it got its revenge for Dormin’s life. Nor would it allow itself to be used against anyone else. Somehow I feel my father may have been behind some of this.”
Caraka nodded. “I think you may be right about that. Well, even when Thorne’s recuperated he still won’t be in charge,” he continued. “That’s part of the reason I came back. Genev has ordered commandants to govern every fort.”
“Commandants?” Mahrree said.
Perrin sighed. “We had provisions for that, but I never imagined they would actually use it. Essentially it means the Administrators have lost faith in the fort commanders, and have appointed new political leaders to rule alongside the commanders. But it won’t stay that way. The commandants will take over, no doubt. The army becomes a puppet for the Administrators.”
Caraka nodded. “Already there is great pressure. Every single worker is being interrogated, moved around, and replaced in the Administrative Headquarters. No fort will look the same. Soldiers are being shuffled around like chips in a game of Dices. Even High General Thorne now has to go through Chairman Mal for approval of anything.”
“Nicko’s angry that the cat let the favorite falcon fly out of the barn,” Perrin said with his first genuine smile of the evening.
“There’s even talk of burning down the entire forest from Edge to Moorland, just to find out what it hides,” Caraka added.
“That’s why I want everyone home now,” Gleace said. “If they destroy the routes, our people will be trapped in the world. The Administrators haven’t made up their mind yet about the forests, but Shem’s route is no longer protected and is far more dangerous. If they do expose the forest, they will also uncover a great many of their own secrets, especially about the so-called Guarders. I doubt they want to do that. But I’m not about to take any chances. I don’t play Dices.”
Caraka gave him a grateful smile before he turned back to Perrin. “Genev is personally overseeing Fort Shin. The name is staying, by the way, as a reminder to respect the Shin name, but to never trust anyone they love. I am sorry,” he said, looking at Mahrree.
Mahrree sighed and slouched on the sofa. “Every person I’ve known for over forty years—my friends, my mother’s friends, the congregation, our neighbors, my students, the teachers, the officers—everyone will believe I’m nothing more than one of the girls who hung out at the northeast entrance. Just a regular sow.”
“Mahrree!” Perrin said sharply. “Stop that!”
Shem slapped his forehead. “I used that entrance to sneak over to your house at night after Perrin and I came back from Idumea.” He groaned. “And I’d stay all night at your place! Look at all the evidence I gave them!”
Perrin stood up between them, and Mahrree realized it was getting to him as well. The idea struck her that maybe worse than being labeled as a betrayer was being cast as the person foolish enough to be betrayed.
“Enough, both of you!” Perrin ordered Shem and Mahrree. “You have to let this go. None of it is true, and all of it belongs to the world. We left that world, right? Peto was right, amazingly: we shouldn’t care. Let them create whatever lies they want to, but it won’t touch us. If you ever wanted another reason why we had to leave, now you have it. Let the world destroy itself! I refuse to let it hurt our family, and we will talk of it no more. Is that understood?”
Mahrree nodded, forcing herself to meet her husband’s eyes. How could anyone not believe that she adored him? All of Edge may think that the man they regarded with fear and veneration was little more than a clueless cast-off, but Mahrree hoped her husband could see the devotion in her eyes.
“Zenos!” Perrin barked.
Shem sat up instinctively and tried to look Perrin in the eyes, but mortification came over him as he noticed Mahrree watching him.
“Shem, will you let this die? Here and now?” Perrin demanded.
Shem sighed. “I want to. I’ve just never been so, so . . . What will Brillen Karna think, Perrin? I used to write him all the time. And Fadh? Yordin? Grandpy and Rigoff and Poe—”
“I don’t care, so neither should you.”
Mahrree knew there was nothing Perrin could say that was further from the truth.
Shem closed his eyes but whispered, “I’ll try.”
“Not good enough, Zenos!”
Shem took a breath and said louder, “Yes sir! I will let it die.”
Perrin walked over to him and pulled him out of his chair. “Come here.” He held Shem’s face in his hands. “Years ago I accused you of being a Guarder spy. I never would have imagined then that I would laugh about it later. Yet the very next day we did. This, too, will become funny. It never happened and this story will never leave this family or this room.”
Jaytsy and Peto nodded, as did Caraka and Gleace.
“I’ll speak to all those coming from the world to make sure none of them spreads the rumor,” Gleace promised. “It will die before it ever reaches Salem.”
Shem blinked away furious tears.
“Now tomorrow,” Perrin said to Shem, “I want you to come over and talk to my wife again like she’s your sister. Because that’s what she’s always been. Well, actually, a cousin on one side several times removed, and a cousin by marriage on another side a few times removed. You’ll have to explain that terminology to me, because I don’t get it. How do you remove someone?”
Shem started to smile as Perrin released his face. “Yes, you’ve got it completely wrong. And yes, I understand and agree. I just have to leave. Now. Tomorrow will be better.”
Mahrree made a motion to get up, but Perrin waved her back down as Shem abruptly headed out the front door without looking at anyone.
Guide Gleace stood up. “I’ll take care of him.” He nodded goodbye to the family and hastily followed Shem.
Perrin turned to Caraka. “I appreciate your coming to tell us all of this. Would be quite the family tale to share if ever we were to share it again.”
Caraka held up his hands. “Again, I’m sorry I had to deliver the news. If it makes you feel any better, your memorial service three mornings ago in Idumea packed the entire kickball stadium. I saw the crowd gathering as I left.”
Perrin smiled slightly. “I could never imagine why fifty thousand people would all want to cram into the same area. I hope the weather was nice.”
“It was.
You will be missed, sir. The world will not be the same without the Shin family.” He leaned over to Mahrree. “All of you.”
Mahrree nodded a weak thanks.
As Caraka went out the front door, the side door attached to the eating room burst open.
Deck bounded in, dusty and happy. “So what do you think of my one hundred babies? Beautiful, aren’t they? Oh, no,” he said reading their bleak faces. “Another document?”
Mahrree stood up, The Dinner smile firmly in place. “Not at all, Deck. Your babies are beautiful. But I just learned that I really have changed the world.”
---
Down the road two figures walked slowly in the darkness. No words passed between them, but heavy sighs from the taller, younger man filled the air.
“You know, Shem—” the older man started to say after the eighth sigh.
“Why did you choose me to be an assistant?” Shem interrupted. “I haven’t even served as a rector—”
“That’s not entirely true, Shem. Before we sent you to Edge what did Guide Hifadhi do?”
“Put his hands on my shoulders and declared me to be . . . a rector,” he finished in a whisper.
“That’s right. Not a practicing rector such as Yung, but endowed with the same guidance, inspiration, and ability as a rector. The same power the Creator grants to all scouts going to the world. And you behaved as a rector, countless times, for the Shins.”
“Not always,” he said miserably. “And I’m not like the other eleven assistants. They’re married, older, wiser—”
“Shem, I didn’t choose you. The Creator called you. He’s the only one who calls men to His work. He sees your heart. He only gives me glimpses into it. And I still see a man called by the Creator.”
Shem sighed for the ninth time.
The guide put an arm around him. “Remember, the Creator doesn’t judge us on the temptations we encounter, but how we react to those temptations.”
It took Shem a minute to work up enough courage to say, “So you know, then.”
“It’s just as I told you,” Gleace said kindly, “the Creator gives me glimpses into people’s hearts.”
Shem groaned at that revelation, and whatever further insights the guide may have had about him.
With forbearance Shem didn’t feel he deserved, Gleace asked, “Did you ever act on those temptations?”
“No,” he whispered. “Never. I killed the thoughts, over and over again. And Perrin thought I could never kill anything.”
“Then you passed that test. And now you also know how terrible it would’ve been if you’d failed it.”
“I couldn’t even look at her, Guide. She was so upset, seeing herself as a common sow . . . And when he looked at me I thought I was going to vomit.”
With the same calm patience, Gleace asked, “Do you think Perrin ever suspected?”
It was an excruciatingly long moment before Shem managed, “Yes, I’m sure he did. I even sort of confessed it the night I told him everything in Deck’s barn. When Perrin put her hand in mine before I dragged them through the forest, he twitched a signal which, depending upon the situation, means, I place you in charge of what is mine, should I not be able to take care of it. I tried to keep my mind clear, yet there it was again, and I was overwhelmed with . . . Guide, I don’t want to feel that way about her! But so many times when I looked at her . . .” Shem didn’t say anything more, afraid he’d start blubbering.
“Yet still her husband loves you as his best friend and brother,” Gleace said steadily. “So apparently he still trusts you—”
“But Guide, why?” Shem wailed. “Why was I plagued for so many years by . . . He’s my brother! She’s his wife! I never gave in. Perrin’s great uncle Hogal even noticed it, the first time. Told me to keep my eyes on him, on Perrin. And I succeeded, for a time. Then it would come back again . . .” Shem rubbed his eyes as if to wipe away memories. “The worst were the past couple of years,” he confessed.
Gleace just listened, as he always did when the burden had to be voiced.
“She’d ask me to stay. At night. Often. She worried about him when he was sedated and practically dead to the world. She told me she felt so vulnerable, and she’d innocently hug me, then beg me to stay and comfort her.” Shem squeezed his eyes shut. “And so many ideas, so many ways I could take advantage of all of that would pour into my mind, showing me how easy it would have been—”
He stopped walking and covered his eyes with his hands, trying to shove back in the tears, the images, maybe even his confession.
Gleace stood by patiently as his newest assistant agonized.
“But Guide, I promise you I didn’t,” Shem said, his hands dropping to his sides. “I never, ever tried anything. I pushed away those thoughts as quickly as I pushed her away, and I stayed all night on that stupid sofa.”
“And that’s why this lie, which wasn’t entirely a lie, has such an effect on you,” Gleace said carefully. “You’re afraid you’ve been found out.”
Shem turned to Gleace, whose expression was much gentler than he thought he deserved. “Guide, I was doing everything you and Hifadhi wanted me to do, everything the Creator commanded, so why?”
Gleace slid his hand up to Shem’s shoulder to keep a firm hold on him as they slowly continued on their walk. “Because you were doing everything right, everything we wanted you to do, and everything the Creator commanded. That’s why.”
“What?”
“Consider this—how important was this work?”
“Very important. Nothing was more vital to Salem than bringing the Shin family here.”
“And who wanted you to fail?”
Shem sighed yet again. “The Refuser.”
“Exactly. And what better way to destroy this work than to destroy the Shins’ trust in you? Had you succumbed, in any way, to the temptations you suffered concerning Mahrree Shin, they would have lost all trust in you, and then everything else would have been lost, too. But you were stronger than his temptations, Shem. You refused to give in to the Refuser, and you got them all to Salem safely.”
They continued on in silence for a few more minutes. Sensing that Shem wasn’t feeling any better, the guide squeezed his shoulder. “It’s just about over, Shem. The Creator is immensely pleased with you, and He also knows the turmoil you’ve been in all these years. Why did you never tell me or Guide Hifadhi about this problem?”
One more sigh. “It’s not like it was constant. It came and went, until recently. I was sure I could beat it for good on my own. I’d succeed for a couple of seasons, and then it would hit me again without warning. I’d be gripped with this . . .” He gestured lamely to the air. “So I’d fight it again . . .” Finally he quit stalling. “Mostly I was afraid you wouldn’t let me go back if you knew how I felt about her.”
“That would have been a possibility,” Gleace admitted. “But maybe we could have helped you fight it instead, Shem. You’re not the first man to suffer from inappropriate feelings for someone who couldn’t be his, you know.”
Shem shrugged guiltily.
Gleace squeezed him again. “Shem, she’s right around the corner. I can feel it. The one who will make you forget all about old-what’s-her-name, and make you grateful you never did anything improper.”
“Then please guide me to that corner!”
The guide smiled. “Now, now. That’s not my job. But when you least expect it, that’s when you’ll find her. And she’ll be well worth the wait.”
Chapter 22--“I shocked him, didn’t I?”