Safety Assured Leaving East of Medicetti

by Trish Mercer

Taking a man from his future bride one week before the ceremony is an excellent idea, Guide Gleace told his Assistant and his General as they sat in the guide’s office planning their trip.

  But Shem was unconvinced, and his pout was pitiful.

  “What you need is a good camping trip with the men,” Hew Gleace assured him. “Give yourself an outlet before the big day.”

  “But I don’t need an outlet. I just need my Calla!” exclaimed Sergeant Major Snuggles.

  Perrin and Hew exchanged looks.

  Perrin’s said, I wasn’t exaggerating when I said he’s nauseating.

  Hew’s said, You’re right. He’s completely ridiculous.

  Plastering on a sympathetic smile, Hew turned back to Shem whose his eyes were more forlorn than an abandoned puppy’s. “Listen carefully, Shem: do you really want to do this a week after you’re married? Leave your blushing bride all alone while you go with Perrin, Peto, and me to the ancient temple site?”

  “Leave her lonely?” Perrin emphasized.

  Shem blinked. “Uh . . . I don’t want to do that, do I?”

  Hew and Perrin both shook their heads.

  “Besides,” Hew said, patting his back, “I’ve never known a prospective groom, no matter what his age, who didn’t have some extra energy to burn off. Best thing to do is to work it out—and away from your beloved,” he added when he could see Shem had other ideas. “So that’s why we’re leaving tomorrow morning. Calving is over, Jaytsy and her baby are well, school is out, the weather is perfect—it’s time to show you what the Creator wants you to see.”

  “You’re right, as always,” Shem sighed.

  “I’ll be at your place at dawn then, General Shin,” Hew said to Perrin. “Do your best to keep Sergeant Sappy here from sneaking to Calla’s for an extended goodbye. We’ve never had guards in Salem before, but maybe we need to get some now. And Shem,” Hew said when he saw his assistant stand up, “I’d like you to stay a few minutes.” He nodded to Perrin that he could leave.

  But before Perrin did, he tugged briefly at his shirt.

  Hew smirked in acknowledgement and turned to Shem.

  “What do you need, Guide?” Shem asked as Hew gestured for him to sit down once they were alone. “I’ve got the papers and ink and quills in case you need me to record anything.”

  “Bring them along on the trip. That’s when I may need you to record something. But right now? I wanted to have a little chat with you, since soon you’re to be married—”

  “I’ve had ‘little chats’ with everyone, Guide!” Shem grinned. “Everyone seems to think I need advice. But Calla and I have gone through my rector’s counseling, and—”

  “I know,” Hew said. “In fact, I spoke with Calla this morning.”

  “You did?”

  “I wanted her to know what it’s like being married to an assistant to the guide, and that while I will frequently take you away, your first priority is to her and your marriage, and should she need you more than I do—”

  “Oh, she won’t,” Shem said confidently. “She’s been living on her own for years now, and she—”

  Hew was holding up his hand, which Shem had learned years ago in training meant, Silence. “I assume at some point she’ll become a mother, and sometimes she’s going to need extra help with those little ones . . .” Hew’s voice trailed off when he realized Shem had started smiling dreamily.

  “Shem?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Did you hear—”

  “Oh, I heard you, and she’s wonderful, Guide! She can do anything!”

  “Uh-huh. Well, I’m glad to see you so fully enamored with her. I suppose it’s safe to say you’ve forgotten all about old what’s-her-name?”

  Shem heard the edge Hew added to his tone, and the grin on his face faded. “I have, Guide. There are no more feelings for her, and I even told Calla about . . . about my troubles concerning Mahrree.”

  “And how did she take it?”

  The goofy grin was back in an instant. “She’s wonderful, Guide! She said she completely understood! Now I know what love is!”

  Hew sighed at the sweet-yet-clueless oaf in front of him. “No, you don’t Shem. But that’s all right. This full-boiling infatuation will eventually simmer down to a manageable heat, and once this excitement wears off—”

  “Oh, but it won’t!” Shem cheerfully insisted. “It’s wonder—”

  “—derful,” Hew finished with him. “Yes, I’ve heard. Shem, trust me: you’re just at the beginning of your marriage, and your feelings are going to evolve in many ways, but that’s good—”

  “No, I’ll always feel this way!”

  “Son, would you please just let me finish?”

  Shem cocked his head quizzically, and the guide, realizing that his assistant was as gooey as Hew’s fourteen-year-old granddaughter making maple syrup, tried another tactic.

  “Shem, look at your shirt.”

  “Guide?”

  “You put on a clean one this evening before coming to visit me, correct?”

  “Yes . . .”

  “Any trouble with the buttons, Shem?”

  He looked down. “Oh. How did I do that?”

  “Your shirt’s inside out, Shem! You’re completely distracted and infatuated, and that’s what I’m trying to help you understand. You’re taking all of this a bit rapidly and . . .”

  Shem was fiddling with his shirt, perplexed at how he buttoned it while it was inside out.

  “Go ahead and fix it, Shem. Mrs. Gleace won’t be coming in.” Hew stood up and looked out the dark window to give Shem a chance at getting his shirt on correctly without an audience. “You see,” he tried once more, “what you’re experiencing right now is the initial bloom of love, but it takes time, Shem. It takes years of devotion and struggles and joys to grow a deep and an abiding love. I just don’t want you to be surprised when some of this excitement wears off.”

  Hearing Shem in his chair, Hew decided it was safe to turn around again.

  When he did, he shook his head sadly.

  There sat Shem, grinning like a small child. A small child who skipped two buttons on his shirt.

  “Oh, Shem. Stand up, son.”

  As Hew undid Shem’s buttons to fix them, Shem said, “I know what you’re trying to say, Guide. Really, I do. Calla’s wonderful, and we’ll be very happy together.”

  “Maybe she can do up your shirts for you,” Hew murmured. “Unless she’s as silly as you.” He patted Shem on the shoulder as he finished. “She told me this morning that she’s loved you since she was sixteen years old. That’s nearly half her life. Did you know that?”

  Shem blushed and grinned once more. “Yes, she told me she developed a crush on me way back when I went to Norden once when I was twenty-four. The poor girl. She’s been pining for me for fourteen years! Tell me that’s not the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.”

  “Yes, it’s sweet, Shem. But think about this: for nearly the same amount of time you’ve had feelings for another woman,” Hew reminded gently, and Shem swallowed. “Please, Shem, promise me right now: if ever those feelings arise again, come tell me and let’s work them out. Calla deserves a husband who is whole-heartedly in love with only her.”

  Shem beamed. “She’s got it, Guide!”

  Hew slapped him on the back. “Today, I believe that. Now go home, get some sleep, and I’ll see you at dawn at the Shins.”

  ---

  Calla made Shem’s leaving easier the next morning by waiting at the Shins. That had been Mahrree’s idea.

  In fact, Mahrree had all kinds of ideas for the next two days. For some reason, Calla was reticent around her. Kind, yes—and polite and sweet and charming, but oh so nervous.

  Mahrree didn’t understand that. For the past seven weeks Calla had become well acquainted with the Zenoses, and had sat with Salema a few times so Jaytsy could rest. Perrin once came home from Shem’s and said, “Calla showed me her notes about the army over the
years. I told her she needs to write it up as a book, and she began by interviewing me right then and there. Her knowledge of the world and its history is quite thorough. You really should talk to her.”

  “I’ve been trying to! But all I ever get from her is a shy smile, a quick hello, and a view of the back of her head as she hurries away. She’s more anxious around me now than she was when I first brought her home to meet Shem.”

  “So what’d you do to scare her off?”

  “I don’t know!”

  But Mahrree was going to change that. Calla was about to become her neighbor and wife to her little brother, and she couldn’t avoid Mahrree forever. Mahrree had insisted that while the men were away Calla should stay at their house, because it was closest to her future home, of course. That would give them the opportunity to get ready for the wedding, and let Mahrree turn Calla into her new best friend. Subtly, of course.

  So Calla stood next to Mahrree on the porch that morning, fidgeting as they watched Shem take the short ride from his barn.

  Mahrree gently elbowed Calla, who nearly jumped out of her skin. “He’ll be expecting a proper goodbye. You know what that means, right?”

  “A handshake?”

  Mahrree chuckled. “At least he knows. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a few private minutes.”

  Shem sighed miserably when he saw Calla. “Two whole days!” he said as he dismounted. He rushed up to the porch and took Calla’s hands. “Will you be all right?”

  “Yes, just fine. I’m sure the time go will go by quickly.”

  Mahrree could hear the doubt in her voice.

  So could Shem. “Really?”

  “But I promise I’ll miss you.”

  “Really?” he brightened.

  Before Mahrree could roll her eyes at their pitiful exchange, Guide Gleace rode up and waved to Mahrree.

  “Drag him away, will you, Mahrree?”

  “Sorry, Guide. I promised Calla he’d give her a proper farewell.”

  Shem sighed as he looked into Calla’s eyes.

  She stared back into his eyes and sighed wretchedly too.

  “And . . . that means it’s time to leave you two alone.” Mahrree stepped off the porch to walk over to the guide. “We can afford them five minutes, right?”

  “You’re a very generous woman,” Gleace said. “But even with five minutes, the poor man may weep all the way there. Oh, it’s too early in the morning for this!” he declared, and Mahrree turned to see Shem and Calla in full embrace, and in full lip contact as well.

  But Mahrree couldn’t help but sigh in delight. “Guide Gleace, Perrin and Peto are saddling up in the barn. Perhaps you want to go check on them? Shem and Calla may need six minutes, instead.”

  “Good idea. Keep an eye on them for me, would you?”

  Mahrree didn’t really watch, but inspected her front yard for weeds although she still didn’t know what should be yanked up, all the while making sure the happy-sad couple didn’t sneak away.

  A few minutes later three horses trotted around from the barn, and Gleace called, “Still? Still he’s saying goodbye?”

  Mahrree shrugged helplessly at him.

  “Zenos!” Perrin yelled in his finest command voice.

  Shem merely held up one finger and turned Calla so that only Shem’s back was showing as they continued their kiss.

  Mahrree snorted and Peto rolled his eyes.

  “Insubordination!” Perrin declared.

  Mahrree laughed as still neither Shem nor Calla made any signs of separating. “He’s just making up for lost time, Perrin. How many times did he have to suffer watching you kiss me goodbye?”

  “Yes, but I made my goodbyes in the privacy of our house. Usually. But this!” Perrin gestured, but couldn’t fight his smile anymore. “Shem, the sooner we leave, the sooner we’re back.”

  Shem finally pulled away, if only to catch his breath. “That’s a good point.”

  Calla nodded and gently pushed him off the porch. “Then go, and have fun. And be careful. Don’t break anything. And don’t eat the wrong mushrooms,” she said as Shem walked to his horse.

  “Mushrooms,” Shem chuckled as he mounted. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  Peto exhaled loudly. “Is being sappy requisite for being in love?”

  Perrin shook his head. “Your mother and I were never sappy.”

  “It’s true,” Mahrree said.

  “And who’s around to verify that?” Shem asked.

  “Well, there’s one advantage to getting older—no one’s around to know if you’re telling the truth or not,” Mahrree said. She patted her son and husband’s legs. “As Calla said, be careful, have fun, but not at Shem’s expense, all right? He needs to be healthy for next week.” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully at her husband.

  Perrin winked at her. “See you tomorrow night.”

  They rode past the Zenos house and out to the main cobblestone road, and Calla joined Mahrree to wave goodbye to the rising dust cloud left by the four horses.

  Mahrree put her arm around Calla. “The time will speed by, I promise. Your future father-in-law is moving into his new wing today and wants you to start rearranging the house to your liking. We have the list of supplies to retrieve from the storehouse to stock your new home, and we also have a newborn to help with. Two days will go by faster than you’ll realize, especially as we try to avoid Shem’s sisters who, I understand, can be a bit overwhelming. I, however, am much easier to work with,” Mahrree sniffed in feigned haughtiness.

  Calla smiled timidly at her. “Thank you for taking such good care of me. Shem speaks so highly of you and Perrin, and I’ve known about you through this reports over the years, and . . . well, I have to admit I’m still not quite sure how to . . . talk to you.”

  So that was the problem? Mahrree chuckled and turned to walk Calla to the house. “The more you get to know us, the more you’ll realize we’re nothing special. Shem’s always been too generous with his praise.”

  “But Mrs. Shin—”

  “It’s Mahrree. Do I need pin that reminder to your dress?”

  “Sorry. But Mahrree, you . . . you’re the world!”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I mean . . . you know everything about the world, and you even changed the course of its history!”

  Before Mahrree could stop her—several stories had leaked into Salem during the past two moons—Calla the avid army historian continued.

  “You, you . . . commandants now, in every fort? Lock-downs and curfews and skirmishes in villages? Even Perrin’s friends have been sent to other villages. Yordin’s over in Sands now, and Fadh’s been sent east to Winds, and Karna’s all the way south in Waves. I’m sure General Thorne did that to keep the three of them separated, but oh, the chaos will only increase. People are angry about Terryp’s land, frustrated about being contained, furious with the changes in the forts that are now clamping down on them, and you—you did all of that!”

  Mahrree stared at her, speechless.

  But Calla was a torrent of words which must have been building for weeks, and now washed down everywhere. “Why, there are even Mahrree Shin Laws. Did you hear that from Jothan?”

  “Well, yes, he did mention—”

  “As a teacher I have an interest in the history of the world, and I know Professor Kopersee has asked you to write the new history text—”

  “I think you’ll need to help me with it, Calla.”

  “Oh, but what could I contribute? But Mahrree,” Calla the unstoppable rained on, “you, you, you’re still shaping the world and you’re not even in it!”

  Mahrree had stopped walking and stared at Calla, who was beaming with terrified pride.

  “You . . . you’re a legend.”

  “I’m a middle-aged grandmother with a big mouth, Calla.”

  “But a very important big mouth,” Calla insisted, then frowned as she thought about her choice of words.

  Mahrree chuckled and t
ook her by the arm again. “I believe I see what the problem has been.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Calla shrugged and said, “I heard that Kopersee invited you to take over his position. Shem said the university president accompanied him to offer you the job, but you turned them down?”

  “I don’t think I’m quite ready for such a responsibility,” Mahrree told her. “Writing their textbook will be daunting enough as it is, and I will make you help me, by the way. All of you Salemites think too much of us. We’re just regular people who tend to get into trouble.”

  Calla’s shoulders sagged. “If you say so. But you did such a good job with those lectures you threw together your first week here, I can’t imagine you wouldn’t be a great professor.”

  “Women aren’t even allowed to teach in the universities in the world,” Mahrree reminded her. “These options are so new to me.”

  Calla frowned. “Mahrree, can I confess something?”

  “Please.”

  “I was . . . I was very surprised when you invited me to your house after that first lecture. I realized I kind of took over the question and answer period, and I was sure you’d think me some silly person with too many questions. But you weren’t unkind or impatient. In fact, you seemed a bit amused—”

  “I was,” Mahrree laughed.

  Calla dared to release a tight chuckle. “Then you said I should come home with you . . . that was just too much to ask for. A private audience? With the most famous woman in the world? And then . . . and then you introduced me to Shem! Oh, Mahrree, how many dreams could come true on one day?”

  “This is why I love Salemites so much, especially you,”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Shem’s always been my honorary little brother, and for years I’ve been looking for just the right woman for him. That afternoon, as you asked question after question about the army, I knew you had to be top of the list. And even though I may be closer in age to your mother—”

  “Actually, my mother married young and had me when she was nineteen. She’s only a year older than you.”

  Mahrree stopped walking. “You had to say that? You really had to say that she’s only a year older than me?”

  When Calla blinked worriedly, Mahrree chuckled. “You need to learn when I’m teasing you, you poor girl. That’s what big sisters do, or so I’m told, and I’d still like to claim you as my younger sister, if you don’t mind?”

  She didn’t expect Calla’s chin to tremble violently. “Really? You mean that? Me?”

  They were nearly at the front stairs now, and Mahrree was feeling confident she’d torn down some invisible prickly bushes between them—

  No. No, there was still one more.

  For the past few days Mahrree had prayed to know how to talk to Calla, and at that moment an idea flashed through her mind that, because of its randomness, she knew she hadn’t come up with it herself. It was a prompting from the Creator.

  “Calla, I want to tell you something else,” she began, not entirely sure what she’d say, only that the words would be given her. “I’ve known Shem for seventeen years, but I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. He’s like a nauseated puppy—that’s Perrin’s description, by the way. But a good nauseated puppy—”

  This? Mahrree thought, this is what she’s supposed to say?

  “—and while I know that some may say this is just a temporary infatuation, and that in the future there will be days when he doesn’t look at you with such sickly fervor, I don’t think that’s true. The way Shem looks at you is with such tenderness, such utter delight, such pure adoration. He’s never regarded anyone like that before, and I know he will think of you that way for the rest of his life, and a thousand years after that.”

  Tears welled up in Calla’s eyes. She tried to say something, but all that came out was, “Blrgrthw?”

  Mahrree laughed. “Just like Shem! The two of you turn into blubbering sops at the slightest things. I declare you and Shem are absolutely perfect for each other. I can’t imagine a better woman for him.”

  She didn’t expect Calla to collapse right there on the stairs, as if a heavy load had been removed from her shoulders, and the lack of weight dropped her instantly. And then the tears started . . .

  “Oh dear,” Mahrree murmured as she sat next to Calla and rocked her. “I’m so sorry, Shem. I think I just broke your bride.”

  ---

  The four men rode south, almost to the end of Salem’s main valley, before turning right into a canyon which cut through the western mountains sheltering Salem.

  A couple of weeks earlier, Guide Gleace had shown Perrin a large map of the region. Perrin was nearly giddy to realize they’d be riding into one of the several areas he’d seen on Terryp’s map which had been labeled as “unknown.”

  Upon seeing Perrin doing a little jog of glee, Gleace assured his general that every map Salem produced would be brought to him.

  Dozens of maps detailing Salem and the surrounding areas were soon delivered, and all had been tacked up on the walls of his office. There wasn’t a splinter of wood to be seen on two of them.

  Down in a corner, and a bit behind a cabinet, were two smaller maps: one of the world, and one of Edge. He put them up only out of obligation, and had yet to give them a second look.

  When the university’s terrain professor had delivered the maps, he told Perrin to leave open a space for the map he’d receive when he and Mahrree headed later to Terryp’s land. It was a Salem tradition, he explained, that you didn’t own a copy of the map Salemites had made of it until you went on the trek. That was fine with Perrin; he had far too many maps to play with for the next many moons anyway.

  Now as they rode to one of those new places, Perrin could hardly contain himself.

  “It’s incredible to imagine,” he said as they entered the canyon, “that a mystery land is at the end of this!”

  Gleace chuckled. “And known by our people for generations. Just like Terryp’s land. We’ve got Peto on the list to go at the end of next Planting Season when the youth in this area head over to Terryp’s ruins, but Perrin, if you and Mahrree want to go over there sooner, such as in this Weeding Season, I’m sure we could arrange for a guide from the archaeology department—”

  “Thank you, but we’ll need to wait,” Perrin said. “Mahrree’s worried about leaving Jaytsy and the baby for so long, and I don’t want to be gone for several weeks until I’ve got Salem secured. Besides, as much as Mahrree wants to go, I think a small part of her is nervous about the trip, so she’s finding excuses.”

  Gleace nodded. “Well, it is a bit of a distance by horse, especially for someone so uncomfortable in a saddle such as Mahrree.”

  “That’s not quite all of it,” Perrin said. “I think she’s worried that she’s built it up so much in her mind that the actual place will be somewhat of a let-down.”

  Gleace cleared his throat, and Perrin glanced over at him. “Are you sure that’s Mahrree’s excuse, or yours?”

  Perrin forgot it was impossible to stretch the truth around the Creator’s guide.

  “A little of both,” he admitted.

  “I can promise you,” Gleace smiled, “that neither of you will be disappointed. But there are more than a dozen ruins within a day’s ride of your home, so the two of you should go on some excursions and introduce her to some dull horses.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Perrin admitted. “Still can’t go this Weeding Season, though,” he murmured to himself. “It’ll only be our nineteenth anniversary—”

  “What’s that?” Gleace asked.

  “Nothing,” Perrin waved it off.

  Peto squirmed. “It’s really a three days’ ride to Terryp’s land?”

  “You have to go around an entire mountain range, Peto,” Gleace reminded him. “That’s not a quick feat, you know. This trip will be a good introduction to what you’ll see there. And a good introduction
for your rump.”

  “Now can you understand why I didn’t want to go on the Administrators’ expedition to Terryp’s land?” Shem said. “I’ve already been there several times, starting when I was fourteen. I would have been too tempted to show them the easy ways there. When you know the route, it’s much less than a week from Edge.”

  “We may have to be more careful in the future when we schedule our tours,” Gleace said. “We no longer have Shem to warn us when someone is slowly creeping over there.”

  “Are you trying to keep Terryp’s land a secret?” Peto asked.

  “Not at all,” Gleace said. “Anyone from the world is welcome to explore and even live there. There’s no danger, no problems. Just huge lands waiting for another civilization to occupy it.”

  “Then why hasn’t anyone from Salem moved there?”

  “We have plenty of space here, Peto. We also don’t want to be that close to the world,” the guide explained. “Someday somebody will realize that the desert border between Sands and the edge of Terryp’s land is not even two miles. Right now, the world is too frightened to even try to cross that narrow desert.

  “The world fears to leave what they know. Terryp’s land is where we originally began, you know. The Creator placed the First Families there, right next to the ruins, so they could see what other civilizations had done and be inspired by their accomplishments. But six years later the men who organized Idumea conspired to control not only the land but the people. And within a few short years everyone left Terryp’s land and went to the confining territory where they’ve remained trapped by their own irrational fears. There are very few people with the desire to look beyond what is accepted and known. Your family, Peto, was one of the unusual ones.”

  Peto smiled at that, as did Perrin. He tried to take in every last detail of every slope and crevice around him, wishing to remember it all. He had to keep reminding himself that he could always come back. This adventure was now his calling.

  Perrin glanced sidelong again at his son, and noticed that Peto’s smile was fading. He, too, was analyzing the terrain around him, but he wasn’t happy with what he saw.

  “Guide Gleace?” Peto said. “This route is too obvious.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sir, if there are to be over one hundred thousand people fleeing from Salem to this valley up ahead, and then go on up the cliff side to the ancient site, it’s obvious they’d go this way. An army could easily overtake them. There are no other canyons or channels leading off of this to confuse pursuers, not like the canyon at the entrance of Salem.” Peto shook his head. “This isn’t good, sir.”

  Perrin realized his son had a point. “What about the other canyons, Guide? There were others I saw on the map further north that lead to the valley, then up to the ancient site.”

  “But they’re all of similar terrain,” Gleace sighed, evaluating the area as if noticing the canyon for the first time.

  “Then we can’t use the canyons,” Peto decided.

  Gleace nodded. “And that’s why you are here, young Mr. Shin.”

  “Sir?”

  “It never before occurred to me that this route is obvious,” Gleace told him, gesturing in dismay. “I always saw it as convenient. But you are entirely correct. An army could come through here five abreast at full gallop.”

  Perrin exhaled, his previous glee diminishing into tedious reality. Securing Salem—moving tens of thousands of people unnoticed—was going to be complicated.

  Perrin rubbed his forehead, disappointed that Peto figured out before he did that the army could easily overtake families sauntering along the canyon floor.

  But Peto was already studying the mountain ridge above them. “Guide, do elk follow trails like deer?”

  “In a way, yes.”

  “How hard are elk to hunt?”

  “Not too hard, if you know where to look.”

  “But that’s the trick, isn’t it? To know where to look? Especially if you don’t know that elk exist. Where do they usually stay?”

  Gleace eyed Peto knowingly. “Up against the trees on the edges of meadows.”

  “Can they walk through the trees without being noticed?”

  “If they have to. The bulls can maneuver without catching their racks on branches.”

  “Branches that would sway and give away their position?” Peto’s tone was growing tighter and higher.

  Perrin turned to watch his son.

  “That’s right,” Gleace said. “There could be a herd up there on the ridge right now.”

  “So the people need to move like a herd of elk, or deer,” Peto decided. “Wherever they can go, so can humans, and without detection from anyone on the canyon floors. Guide, we shouldn’t be traveling here, we should be up there!” Peto pointed to the ridge.

  Gleace grinned. “Excellent! Peto, that’s precisely what you will do . . . later. You and your father will be responsible for finding the best ‘elk route’.”

  “We will what?” Perrin said.

  “There needs to be several different routes.” Peto looked up at the hillsides in the canyon. “From different places in Salem, through the trees. If one gets compromised, there should be other options.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Perrin had to admit.

  Shem leaned over to him. “And Peto never wanted to be in the army?” he said quietly. “He’s a natural strategist. That’s probably why he was so good at kickball. He instinctively knows how to avoid the enemy and sneak around to reach his goal.”

  Once again Perrin was struck by how little he really understood about the world, and his own son.

  “Groups should be smaller as well, less noticeable,” Peto continued with growing enthusiasm. “Take a look at those evergreens, Guide. The branches don’t start until about six feet high. Perfect for someone to walk under. Maybe Father and Shem would have to duck, but most everyone else wouldn’t lose their hats.”

  Gleace chuckled, and Shem leaned over to Perrin. “I think he’s found his calling.”

  Peto still stared up at the ridgeline. “This could take a while, Father, to go all over these mountains.”

  Perrin’s smile returned. There was nothing he wanted to do more than go exploring with his son.

  “We have time for that, Peto,” the guide said. “The Creator has given us plenty of time to prepare. I think I know why you are here, young Mr. Shin.”

  “To learn the names of those trees,” Shem said. “He doesn’t like Douglas Fir.”

  “No I don’t,” Peto chuckled. “Do you know the names, Guide?”

  Gleace shook his head. “Sorry. If it doesn’t moo, I don’t know its name. But that will be our first order of business when we return, to get you with a botanist and a geographer. We’ll start you in those courses at the university when it resumes in Harvest Season.”

  “What are . . . botanists and geographers?” Peto asked.

  “What you’re about to become,” the guide said.

  Peto looked up again at the trees. “It’s like a maze, isn’t it? Little breaks and openings in the forest taking you one way, then another?”

  “We could probably make some of our own mazes, Peto,” Perrin suggested.

  Peto grinned. “I can’t believe I ever thought studying kickball injuries sounded appealing.”

  “You did?” Perrin asked. “When was that?”

  Peto waved him off. “Never mind, Father. Quiet. The mountains are talking.”

  ---

  The sun wasn’t yet at its zenith when the four men exited the canyon and entered a narrow valley, barely a quarter mile wide and half a mile long.

  None of them spoke.

  The air was humid and quiet. Surrounded by jagged mountains that rose abruptly on every side, the valley sat serenely growing its grasses which had previously been trampled and soaked with blood.

  Perrin felt as if a centipede were crawling up his spine. Throughout the canyon they spotted deer, coyotes, and even a moose a
nd her calf. But there were no animals here, even though a clear stream lazily trickled through it.

  It felt abandoned and purposely avoided.

  “It feels like death,” Perrin decided, shivering although the air was warm and heavy.

  “Always has,” Gleace agreed grimly. “Green, lush, vibrant, and dead, as if this is the place where things come to expire. You can come, but you cannot leave.”

  Nervously, Peto cleared his throat. “So . . . are we safe?”

  The guide smiled. “Today is not the Last Day, Peto.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Completely. Too many signs the Creator has given us that haven’t occurred. Until they do, we are perfectly safe.”

  Shem looked around. “The mountain peaks are quite majestic, and the valley floor is obviously fertile. I just never understand why this place makes my skin crawl.”

  “Because it’s been the site of the greatest evils this world has produced,” Gleace explained, his bright blue eyes clouding. “Many people have met their ends here. Where evil dies, it remains. It cannot progress, it cannot move on to the next test, until it’s finished with the punishment it’s earned.”

  “So . . . the spirits of the evil dead are here?” Peto winced.

  “In a manner of speaking, Peto,” the guide said and reached over to pat him comfortingly on the shoulder. “Their souls are in the dark deserts prepared for them, where they contemplate with anguish all that they failed to do. But something of their evil remains here.”

  “I couldn’t imagine living here,” Perrin murmured. “Has anyone tried?”

  “A few have,” the guide said. “Some of those who chose not to continue in Salem. They were advised to avoid this area, but the flat grassland was just so tempting. But no one has ever lasted more than a season. They’d bicker among themselves, fight with their neighbors, and even commit murder before they’d have sense enough to leave. Some folks just don’t notice the deadness of this valley. I’m glad that each of you felt it the moment we entered it. That speaks volumes about the nature of your hearts.”

  “Let’s just get moving on,” said Shem moodily. “The ancient site is always better.”

  “Indeed.” The guide clucked his horse onward and the three others followed. “The longer people linger here, the more they become used to the feeling,” he told his companions. “Then they become consumed by it. We won’t risk that today.”

  Perrin and Peto looked up to see that the valley ended in a vast bowl surrounded by sheer mountain peaks. In front of the mountains jutted out a massive plateau that ended as a cliff, dropping down into the valley. It undoubtedly was an excellent vantage point to look over the enclosed valley and the canyons which fed into it. The plateau sloped slightly to the ring of mountains behind it, creating an area accessible only by going over the mountain peaks or climbing the jagged cliff.

  “You’re right, Gleace,” Perrin said as he evaluated it. “It looks like a mountain that had its top sliced off.”

  They spurred their horses into a gallop to make faster time. The heaviness of the valley slipped away the closer they came to the cliff. By the time they reached the rocky area, the air was lighter and the mountains appeared beautiful again.

  Gleace led them to a small pasture sheltered by the side of the rocky cliff and got off his horse. “This is where the fun begins, boys. We leave the horses here for the night and climb up to the ruins. Plenty of space for a lovely campsite there.”

  Perrin evaluated the sheer cliff before him—a couple hundred feet high—then eyed the seventy-five-year-old man. “Are you, uh, up to the climb?”

  Gleace gave him a playfully hurt look as he took a pack and slung it easily over his shoulder. “Don’t I look like I am?”

  Perrin held up his hands. “No offense, Guide, it’s just I’m a little concerned that—”

  “I can handle it. I did it just last year. It’s not as bad as it seems. We don’t go straight up the face, you know.”

  No, Perrin didn’t know, but he was relieved.

  “There are plenty of switchbacks,” the guide told him. “Besides, if I stumble I have the two strongest soldiers from the world who can carry me the rest of the way.”

  “Watch it, Perrin,” Shem told him. “Gleace just might beat both of us up there. It’s Peto I’m worried about.”

  Peto was grimacing as he got off his horse. He removed his pack, then grabbed the sheepskin he’d thrown over the saddle before they left. Clutching it he said, “Just in case my behind becomes sore.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Perrin said, swatting his son on the rump.

  “Ow! Yes. See? Just fine. Let’s get walking.”

  An hour later Guide Gleace was the first man to the top of the cliff, followed by Shem, Peto who waddled much of the way, and Perrin who poked Peto’s behind with a stick when he flagged.

  The view from the top was impressive, but the temple site itself was what caused the four men to stop and gawk.

  As bleak and oppressive as the air felt below them, it was as light and calm on the vast tableland. About sixty paces from the cliff stood an immense crumbling gray stone structure.

  Instinctively, the men walked there.

  Judging by the amount of fallen cut stone around them, the temple must have been two levels high when it was first constructed. Dozens of columns which used to support a now-missing roof still rose upwards, a few over fifty feet.

  At the front of the temple several pillars remained, rising about ten feet above the stone floor below them. A section of beautifully carved rock spanned the top of most of them, precariously balanced like a crumbling bridge.

  “Ooh, I’d like the walk along that span,” Peto whispered.

  “Are you joking?” his father hissed at him.

  “Sorry, I realize that wasn’t the most reverent thought—”

  “It’s not that. I’m just worried that the whole thing might come down at any moment.”

  “It won’t,” Shem said, and with his normal voice he sounded as if he were shouting. “This has stood for hundreds of years, if not thousands. And Peto, you wouldn’t be the first to scale the columns and go for a stroll in the air,” he winked.

  Guide Gleace cleared his throat. “Assistant Zenos, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  “Yes, sir,” Shem said apologetically. “Not like I did it recently.”

  Perrin neared the steps and turned to Gleace. “May I?”

  “Go up and explore the temple? Why do you think we’re here, General?”

  Even though the five stairs in front of him, running the full width of the portico, were cut from massive stone blocks, Perrin was still hesitant to step on them in case they would crumble.

  But the potential before him was too tempting, and soon he got over his worries, as well as the steps, and was at the front entrance standing before a massive pillar.

  “Mahrree will love this!” he breathed as he ran his hands along the deep grooves etched along the full length of a column, following them up until his eyes rested on the flat stones spanning the top. Carved delicately and elaborately along them were vines and symbols which seemed to Perrin more representative of written language rather than random patterns.

  Peto joined him on the portico of the temple, then wandered to the side where a few large blocks remained, taller and wider than Perrin. Placed side by side, they formed the walls of the ruined temple. Peto gingerly fingered the etchings, some of flowers and trees, interspersed with precise shapes in rows.

  “This was their writing?” he whispered.

  Guide Gleace strolled over to him. “As best as we can tell. But we can’t decipher it. To think: here are the stories of a long-gone civilization, and we can’t understand any of it! So frustrating.”

  Perrin was aware that Shem was to the other side of him, and he glanced over to see Shem running his fingers along the inside of a hole in the stone wall.

  Perrin stopped caressing the column in front of h
im and joined Shem. He peered through the hole to see the rest of the open temple, overgrown with weeds and shrubs, then evaluated the hole.

  “It’s almost entirely spherical, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Shem said gravely, “it is.”

  Perrin analyzed the large blocks around the temple. “There. I see another similar hole. And over there. There’s a chunk out of the side, halfway gone. And yet another!” He trotted down the steps to crouch next to a boulder-sized section of wall, with a large corner missing.

  “This wasn’t natural,” he said as Gleace, Shem, and Peto joined him. “This was deliberate! What could cause such destruction?”

  He didn’t notice Gleace and Shem exchanged quick glances.

  “I’ll find you an example,” Gleace said, pushing grass away with his feet.

  “Guide,” Shem said, “are you sure this is the best idea?”

  “He’ll figure it out soon enough, Shem. Now, I saw one last year . . . where was it?”

  Perrin was still tracing the blast of damage on the stone, not noticing that Shem was staring at him, hard.

  Peto joined the guide in looking through the grasses, not really sure of what he was searching for. But he knew it when he saw it.

  “Guide, is this it?” Peto smoothed his hand over a large black sphere splattered with reddish-orange dust.

  “Yes, very good, Peto. Over here, Perrin. Here’s your answer.”

  Reluctantly he pulled himself away from the ruined corner, and frowned at what he saw halfway buried in the dirt. “Is it a stone?”

  “No,” Gleace said, pulling up some of the concealing grasses. “Solid iron.”

  Perrin’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”

  “Pick it up for yourself to see,” Gleace dared him.

  Perrin scrunched up his face. If a sphere that large was solid iron . . . Already his bad back was twinging at the thought. “Uh, Shem?”

  Together they hefted the large ball. Once it was wedged out of the ground where it had rested for untold centuries, it wasn’t so heavy.

  Perrin easily carried it over to the broken block and sat it in a crevice. “It obviously fits. But what kind of force could propel such a heavy object?”

  The guide looked at Shem. “Tell him.”

  Shem sighed. “You already know, Perrin.”

  Perrin looked up. “I do?”

  “Moorland.”

  It took only a moment for the pieces to all come together.

  “Of course!” Perrin whispered. “The explosions that destroyed those buildings.” His eyes danced across the ball as if he could see it in action. “Explosions that are channeled . . . focused from a . . . a . . . cylinder of some sort.” He rubbed his chin as he pondered. “But it would have to be enclosed at one end to contain and direct the explosion . . . that could send an object an enormous distance, just like the debris from the explosion was thrown in Moorland.”

  His hand ran over the ball, feeling its rough texture and coating his palm in flecks of orange. “The cylinder would have to be constructed of iron itself, with no seams—cast as one continual piece—to withstand the pressure of the explosion and remain intact, and to do it repeatedly. Remarkable!” he breathed in morbid admiration.

  Shem came over and touched the iron sphere, but immediately pulled back in loathing.

  “When you wanted to go back and investigate the craters in Moorland, I knew I couldn’t let you. When I witnessed the explosion, I realized it was the secret to destroying this temple. About ten years ago another scouting party from Salem ran across the kinds of cylinders you just described down in the valley. It took them quite a while to put together that they were connected to these iron balls. What took us days to understand you figured out in just minutes. If you had access to what they were creating in Moorland, I have no doubt you would have figured out how to recreate the same amount of devastation as we see here.

  “That’s not a compliment, Perrin,” he added when he saw the depth of planning in his friend’s face. “I couldn’t let you go back to Moorland. And if I had, the knowledge of how to construct such weapons would now be in the hands of General Qayin Thorne.”

  But Perrin barely heard him. His imagination was in another time. “It would take horses to pull such a heavy cylinder, but the canyons are wide. The explosive matter would also have to be packed carefully . . . Fire, right? Shem, you said a fire started the Moorland explosion. In fact, it was the torch you threw, wasn’t it?”

  Shem squinted at him in disapproval, but Perrin didn’t notice. He was staring off at the valley.

  The guide closely watched his assistant and general.

  Peto spied something in the grass, and kneeled to dig at it.

  “Maybe the explosive matter is stable until ignited,” Perrin continued in faraway deliberation. “But large cylinders would be cumbersome to transport. But what if . . . what if . . .” Perrin’s eyes danced wildly with the possibility. “What if it was replicated in a smaller version? Something that each man could carry? Smaller balls, smaller cylinders. Individual explosive devices!”

  Peto pulled up something from the grass and held it up. “Using something like this?” In his hand were several small iron balls, crumbling into rusty dust.

  “Yes!” Perrin snatched up them up. “Exactly!”

  “Perrin, STOP!” Shem grabbed his shoulders and shook him, causing Perrin to drop the balls.

  “No! Where’d they go?” Perrin tried to pull out of Shem’s grip to find the rusty pieces which were again lost to the grasses.

  Shem fought to keep his hold on him, and Gleace bit his lip in worry that a wrestling match might occur among the jagged stone.

  “Back where they belong!” Shem shouted at Perrin. “In history, in another time. We don’t need that level of destruction, Perrin!”

  Perrin stopped tussling with Shem so that he could deliver him a properly sharp glare. “Don’t you realize what they could do? Shem! From a distance we could take out Thorne and everyone else, unseen and safely! We could really secure Salem!”

  “And if Thorne could create those same devices, the world could pick off our children just as easily!” Shem pointed out. “No, Perrin. Your mind is too keen to destruction, my brother. Not in our civilization. Not in our time.”

  Perrin spun to the guide in appeal.

  “I have to agree, General Shin. It’s too much power. Even if you could figure out how to create that black powdery substance, you can’t guarantee it won’t fall into the wrong hands. While I see great potential for it, I also see far more devastation. Look what it did here. Salem could be destroyed in a day.”

  Perrin turned to his son, hoping that maybe he could see reason, and help the others to see it, too.

  But Peto said quietly, “Not this way, Father. It should be buried. Iron comes from the mountains and it should be returned to the mountains. Even the little balls.”

  “Peto! Can’t you realize what this could do? Put men up on those ridges you pointed out, shooting at the army below—”

  “Yes, General,” Peto said soberly. “And it’s making my stomach sick to think of it. Please don’t pursue this, Father. The dirt can’t even dissolve these balls, so they fester and rust. These are why the valley feels dead.”

  Feeling defeated, Perrin sat down on the stone block and put his hand on the sphere. “Interesting theory, Peto. What did you eat last night to wake up so clever this morning?”

  Gleace sat next to him. In his kind and calm manner, he gently admonished Perrin with, “The Creator is generous with His power. He gives us mere mortals the ability to start life, and the knowledge of how to end life as well. How we use His powers reveals a great deal about our hearts and minds. The Creator expects us to rein in those impulses until it’s the right time to use them. If we don’t, chaos and sorrow are the inevitable results. Great men choose to control those urges. You’re one of those great men, so let your ideas die, Perrin,” he implored, “where everything else
has died.”

  Perrin nodded slowly, but as he stared at a broken stone in the grass so many tactics flowed through his mind like a landslide.

  But, just like a landslide, it was too much power and potential. He had to let it flow away. While his plans were dissolving as easily the iron ball under his hand, he knew he had to bury them.

  When the Guide of the Creator tells you “no,” then no it is.

  He felt three pairs of eyes watching him worriedly, waiting for his response. Eventually he took a deep breath and patted the sphere.

  “I suppose we need to clean up this area. Perhaps we should push all the iron into the valley, away from the temple it destroyed.” Then, remembering how they removed the debris from their demolished bedroom after the land tremor, he added, “Wish we had a target.”

  Peto began to smile. “There’s that a large boulder down there. Closest one to the boulder with all the iron spheres we find gets to kiss Calla first on her wedding day?”

  “Hey!” Shem protested.

  The Guide cleared his throat at the suggestion of a competition. “Now, boys—”

  But Perrin grinned. “You’re on!”

  Peto noticed Shem’s shocked expression. “You better aim well, Uncle Shem!”

  ---

  By evening they had uncovered and sent over the edge fifteen large spheres and several handfuls of smaller balls. Shem won the boulder hitting contest, which wasn’t a contest since competition wasn’t allowed, because Gleace kept ‘accidentally’ bumping into Perrin and Peto as they tossed their iron. Satisfied that the area was as clean as they could make it, they set up camp just past the ruined temple so they could view the tableland which lay behind it.

  “This area is immense,” Perrin said while Peto and Guide Gleace built a fire. “The way the bowl dips down into its own valley makes for a naturally defensive area. I can see why it was used in the past.”

  “I estimate we could fit up to eighty or ninety thousand people here,” Gleace said quietly. “Certainly not forever, but for a week?”

  Perrin nodded. “I want to walk all of it in the morning and take some measurements, just in case this is where we’ll come in the future. In the meantime, I’ll help Shem get more wood.”

  Peto watched his father leave before he dared turn to the guide. “You said up to ninety thousand, sir?”

  “I did.”

  “But . . . that’s not all of the population of Salem, Guide.”

  “I know,” Gleace whispered, staring at the fire.

  “So,” Peto started nervously, “where would the other thirty thousand go?”

  “Likely even more than thirty thousand, Peto, by the time the Last Day arrives. But I don’t know where they’d go,” Gleace admitted. “Maybe not all of them would want to come. Perhaps they’d flee to another area. Maybe this isn’t even where we’ll come for our Last Day. Or, perhaps the population simply won’t be as high—”

  “Why wouldn’t the population be so high?”

  The guide, hearing the panic in his voice, regarded him kindly. “The Last Day will come only after a great deal of upheaval, Peto. Land tremors. Mount Deceit awakening. Famine. Invasion. A part of me wishes to live to see the Last Day, but then other days I think perhaps it won’t be so bad watching from the other side. Those who escape Salem will be the last of the survivors.”

  Even though the guide was trying to smile, his somber tone gave Peto a chill. He scooted closer to the fire, which only made his toes feel hot. “Are you sure this is the place for Salem’s retreat?”

  “No, actually. Not yet.” Gleace poked the fire with a long stick. “That’s why I came, looking for an answer. Perhaps tomorrow He will tell me.”

  “And . . . how might the Creator tell you?”

  “There are many ways the Creator communicates, Peto,” the guide said easily as he tossed more sticks on their fire. “Sometimes through dreams. Sometimes through others’ words to us. Sometimes in random thoughts. And occasionally in very clear visions, such as the one Guide Pax was given when he first saw Salem and realized that someday Idumea would come after us. But usually I’m just considering a question and I find the answer as I read The Writings. There are days I know I’ve read the words before, but they suddenly have a new meaning for me. And often I just need to sit still and listen for whatever the Creator needs to tell me. I try to keep an open mind to all possibilities. He tells me what I need to hear, and how I need to hear it.”

  Peto nodded thoughtfully.

  After a silent moment Gleace said, “I’m waiting for the next question.”

  “Next question?”

  “The one which inevitably follows: Have I had any dreams or visions?”

  Peto looked up at Gleace. “Would you answer if I asked that?”

  He tilted his head. “I’m interested as to why you aren’t asking.”

  “Aren’t those things meant to be kept private?” Peto said, thinking about the parchment concealed in his drawer about the greatest general in the world. “I mean, something like that is . . . sacred, I guess. You don’t want to share it with just anyone. Only those who could appreciate it, or who it’s meant for.”

  The guide leaned back and smiled. “Very good, Mr. Shin. Spoken like someone with experience in such matters.” When he saw Peto’s startled expression, he added, “And no, I won’t ask you about how you know that. As you said, it’s sacred. Keep it sacred.”

  Chapter 27--“Parchment. Quill. I see it.”