by Trish Mercer
Mahrree was at the Zenoses when Shem rode up to the house that evening.
Calla burst into a grin and Mahrree patted her on the back. “I’ll finish up dinner. You go greet your husband.”
Mahrree giggled when she heard Shem burst into the side door. What he did with his wife, Mahrree didn’t know, but she heard Calla announce loudly, “ . . . and Mahrree came over to help me make dinner. She’s in the kitchen, right now!”
“But I’ll be leaving,” Mahrree called out, “as soon as I get this bread out of the oven and hear an update on my husband.”
Shem came into the kitchen with a self-conscious smile on his face. “Thanks, Mahrree. I appreciate you, uh . . .”
“Making dinner or leaving you two alone? And Lilla’s over at my house putting something together for Peto. We’re a little scrambled up around here. I’m sure it won’t take much to persuade Lilla to stay at our place for a while so you two can have your privacy.”
Shem was purple with embarrassment as Calla put her arms around him. “Um, you don’t, uh . . . that’s not—”
Mahrree chuckled as she took the bread out of the oven. “I really need to leave you two alone . . . So, Shem you still think there’s not much progress?”
Shem shrugged. “And I seem to be the only one. Jon is fascinated and willing, as I suspected he would be, but so is Radan. Personally, I think he’s playing them all, and that he’s just gathering information to share with someone else later.”
Mahrree wiped her hands on her apron. “Perrin knows soldiers are duplicitous like that. He’ll see through it—”
“But he’s not. Mahrree, he’s buying Radan’s little act. And he’s got the scouts convinced that Radan’s sincere. We spy on them and listen in, and every time I think Radan’s pulling a fast one, Perrin’s convinced he’s genuine.”
“Oh dear,” Mahrree sighed. “I’m really not sure what to think. Perrin’s not usually gullible . . . are you sure Radan’s not coming around?”
She didn’t expect to see the antagonism rise in his eyes so quickly. “You too? You, too, don’t see it—”
“I don’t see anything, Shem,” she reminded him. “I’m miles away. I’m merely trying to put together a puzzle for which I don’t get to see most of the pieces. All I’m saying is that Perrin’s a very good judge of character. Usually. Perhaps . . . perhaps you are—”
“—Are too skeptical!?” he snapped.
Calla recoiled at his anger, but Mahrree smiled sadly. “Apparently you’ve been accused of that before, and quite recently. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to doubt you, or my husband. Right now, I’m not on either of your sides. You have a difficult situation, no doubt. And I think you need to put all of that aside,” she said. “Now sit down to dinner with your dear, sweet wife, and have a quiet evening with only her. The calming benefits of marriage, and all that,” she added as Shem blushed. “Tell my husband tomorrow morning that his interns were most upset to hear he won’t be back for a while, and that I’m keep myself quite occupied and that I don’t miss him one bit. That’s the best I can do for you, Shem. And now, I’ll leave you two alone.”
---
“Oh, I forgot about my interns,” Perrin rubbed his chin the next morning. “And the hundreds of volunteers coming to help clear out brush . . . Well, I guess we’ll just push back those plans a few weeks. And Mahrree’s really all right with this? Keeping herself occupied?” He asked Shem. “Well, good,” he decided. “It’s about time she realized there’s more to life than just adoring me.”
Shem scoffed a laugh. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“You seem to be in a better mood,” Perrin hinted.
Shem ignored that and took his pack off of his horse. “What’s the plan today for Offra and Radan?”
“Understood,” Perrin chuckled quietly. “Been enjoying the calming benefits of marriage, I see.” More loudly he said, “Winter’s teaching them a modified first lesson, like the scouts do in the world. All about Querul and the Great War—”
“And how’s it going?” Shem asked as they walked into the stables to take care of his horse. “Wait, let me guess: both Jon and Radan are just so enthusiastic about it.”
“Of course they are,” Perrin said, a little surprised by Shem’s sarcasm.
“Perrin,” Shem sighed dramatically as he undid his horse’s saddle, “you’ve gone as rusty as those iron balls we buried. Radan’s playing all of you. He’s mimicking Jon’s behavior so that we’ll keep revealing more information. Once he has enough—and he’s got too much already—he’ll make a run for it.”
“That’s not it at all,” Perrin insisted. “He’s learning—”
“—everything he needs to bring back to the world the most compelling report that will get him promoted and placed somewhere more interesting than Scrub. Just think of what Qayin Thorne and Nicko Mal will do with that information.” Shem put a hand on his waist and beckoned to Perrin with the other. “Come on—give it to me. The great comeback.”
Perrin folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “You haven’t been here since yesterday afternoon. A lot can change in an evening. Radan really is trying to accept it all. I spied on him when he was talking to the other scouts.”
“You see what you want to see, Perrin. That’s a worldly problem that you haven’t yet left behind. When we look hard enough for what we want to see, we’ll see it every time. You’ll find that evidence, even if it doesn’t exist.”
“That argument could be made about anything!” Perrin insisted. “You could say that about the Creator, or visions of the guide—”
“That’s right!” Shem nodded. “Absolutely. I could be just as deceived by my own hopes and beliefs as anyone in the world. And to the world, I’m sure I appear deluded. But I derive great comfort from my ‘delusions,’ so why would I want to believe anything less?”
“So you think I’m delusional?” Perrin squinted.
Shem sighed. “I think all of us are delusional. Some more than others. But I do think that you’re seeing what you hope is there. You want this for Radan because it’s given you so much joy. But the nature of your heart is very different than Radan’s. He may not be ready for this for many years. You can’t change a heart. Only the owner of it can choose to have it changed, and even then he has to let the Creator in to finish the job.”
Perrin rubbed his forehead. “I’m going to prove you wrong, Shem.”
“I sincerely hope so, Perrin.”
---
A week they’d been there.
Radan had been counting down not only the days, but the hours and minutes.
A week.
Reading histories and talking about the Creator who these Guarders believed was a real, immortal Being, not some grand manipulator who tried to control the world in the very early days.
Reading The Writings, which maintained that miracles still occurred—
Radan was going to need one, fast.
Captain Thorne would expect them back next week, but as agreeable as Radan had been, as open as he tried to appear, there was no evidence of the scouts letting him or Offra go anytime soon. No, apparently they had at least another two weeks of teaching—which would put them long past the time Thorne expected them to return. But tomorrow they’d meet the mysterious men in charge.
Radan had the nagging feeling that those men would decide his fate, and that being allowed to go back to the world would not be one of the choices.
Not that their confinement hadn’t been . . . pleasant, he reflected reluctantly as he lay in his sleeping net and stared into the dark. Along with studying, they’d taken many walks around the small valley, learning about different shrubbery, terrain, what a glacier was and why it left that pristine body of water no one ever touched, and all kinds of scientific facts that no one in the world knew.
And Radan remembered it all.
Already Winter had provided so much information that Radan was sure he’d be appointed colonel when he presented it all, along wit
h his meticulously recorded notes, to Snyd.
And he needed those notes, because stories and histories of what he knew, and what he was now learning, were swirling in his mind and crashing into each other, creating a chaos of thoughts.
He could now understand why Terryp and his stories were silenced by the Queruls, and the Administrators as well. You can’t have bits of information floating around that run contrary to the current political river; it would create a flooding mess.
Keeping the world flowing properly was the purpose of government; not trying to discover new things that confused everyone about what they already knew. So much “knowledge” needed to be regulated, or the entire harmony of the world could be in jeopardy.
And it was that so-called knowledge that Radan held suspect. Yes, they read fragile parchments from hundreds of years ago that claimed to hold the truth, but did they? Couldn’t the ancient writers have been just as manipulative as the current ones? How could anyone be sure of any truth?
They couldn’t. That was obvious.
Even Winter admitted it when Radan offhandedly brought up the subject. Naturally he had ready answer: Believe what rings true to you. Open your mind to let out all preconceived notions, then let the new ideas rattle around in there. Consider the possibilities and what they could mean, and why others chose to suppress them. Honestly analyze everything before accepting or dismissing it.
It was a long answer, too. Radan lost interest halfway through Winter’s earnest rambling, but Jon licked it all up.
Radan even caught Offra heading to the stables last evening, after receiving permission from Winter. When Radan asked why he went, Jon blushed and said he was going to pray, to sort out what he was feeling. When he came back, more than an hour later, he was smiling but his eyes were red and puffy. He’d said he’d had a “wonderful talk,” and was even more excited about joining these men committed to nothing. He felt it was right.
That’s when Radan knew his companion was too far gone; feelings were never to be trusted because they were too easily imagined and twisted. He’d learned that much from Lemuel Thorne. All you could rely upon were facts which . . . now that he thought about, were often based upon what someone felt was proven true—
Radan rubbed his eyes. He knew he was too exhausted, because some of the things they’d been telling him actually made sense.
And that was the trouble: when truth is mixed in with lies, how do you pick out what’s real? It was like trying to separate water from mud, a spoonful at a time.
The problem, he realized, was that he liked his life as it had been for the past twenty-five years. It was orderly, because others had decided long ago what was worth knowing. The sky was blue, and everyone knew what was “real.” Why mess it all up because someone claims it’s not “the truth”?
Besides, position and power awaited him in the world. What could these men offer him? Jerky and wildflowers?
Radan rolled over in his net, trying to get comfortable. He’d start looking for a way out, before he learned anything else that would mess up the tidiness of his brain.
There was only so much “truth” a man should have to take.
---
“Are you absolutely sure about doing this tomorrow?” Shem asked Perrin one more time as Shem readied his horse to head back to Salem for the night.
“Did you see his face this evening?” Perrin said. “The boy was positively beaming!”
“It’s not Jon I’m worried about,” Shem grumbled. “And I still don’t think it’s a good idea you two having your secret little meetings here. It makes Jon all to cheerful, and Radan will get suspicious.”
Perrin waved that off. “Radan doesn’t care. Jon tells him he’s going to the stables to pray and meditate, and Radan has no desire to follow—”
“And isn’t that telling?” Shem probed. “He’s not at the same level of readiness, Perrin.”
“Tomorrow will get him there,” Perrin assured him. “When he meets us again, and Guide Gleace? Faced with all of that evidence, he’ll have no choice but to accept what we can offer him.”
Shem groaned. “I can’t have this argument with you again. I just can’t—”
“So don’t. Go home to your wife,” Perrin said, a little testily. “Complain to my wife, grouse together for a while, then come back in a good mood, because tomorrow, everything changes.”
Shem swung up on to his horse. “If Radan’s heart is still solidly in the world, no amount of evidence will change that.”
“Yes, it will,” Perrin insisted. “If his heart’s still in the world, I’ll just pull it out!”
“That’s not the best metaphor, Perrin.”
---
The next day at midday meal, Radan felt increasingly edgy. This afternoon they were to meet the men in charge. He had a suspicion that at least one of them was already there, and that either he or another left each evening and returned each morning. They were never allowed to go to the stables without permission, and at certain times of the day he could hear a horse leave them. He and Offra would be funneled back into the fort if they were outside, and not allowed to see out the windows which way the rider went. But in such a narrow valley, the echoes of the horse made it clear the rider went to and returned from the north.
That’s where they were, in some fashion.
Apparently another one of the men in charge was coming from a far distance, just to meet them. And then, Radan was sure, the evaluation would begin, and his life sentence to that tiny valley would commence.
He had to escape. Today, somehow.
He hoped that Edge wasn’t as far away as he feared. Yet the other place, whose name they still didn’t share, also couldn’t have been too far away because riders went out at night and returned in the morning. The most logical direction for Edge was then in the south.
But logical also meant woefully obvious, so Edge couldn’t be that way.
No, Edge had to lie in another direction. The scouts were too careful with what they said and how they acted. When they left in the mornings to “secure the area,” they went in every direction. While two always went south, others went east, west, and even north.
But which way should he go?
One nagging thought kept returning to Radan. While he hoped Edge was nearby, he had to admit the possibility that he could’ve been sedated for days and dragged over all kinds of terrain before reaching that bizarre little fort. That would also mean that Thorne might already be missing him. He may have sent new “searchers” by now, and by some stroke of ridiculously good luck, they’d seen this fort already and had gone back to tell Thorne before Radan could get any credit—
Panic rose in his throat like a bad sausage.
It had to happen today, Radan knew.
The question was, how?
And the obvious next question was, when—
Interrupting his anxious rumination was one of the guards, coming into the eating area. Smiling, he announced, “The men in charge would like to meet you in the meadows on the other side of the western ridge.”
Winter blinked at him. “Why?”
“Because,” the guard said, “there’s proof over there about what you’ve been teaching our two lieutenants.”
Internally, Radan bristled at our, but he just plastered on a smile as eager as Jon’s.
“Ooh, what is it, sirs?” Jon was practically bouncing in his seat.
The guard grinned. “Elk!”
The lieutenants frowned. What in the world was elk?
But Winter chuckled. “The western herd’s returned?”
“Rather poor timing, though,” the guard said. “The cattle are on their way up today to feed for the season. The elk will be moving on rather quickly today and return later when the cattle have dispersed. But since the cattle aren’t due in for another hour or two, the men in charge thought our boys would enjoy seeing the elk.”
“And what are elk?” Radan said, growing impatient.
Wi
nter put a hand on each of the lieutenants’ shoulders. “It took our ancestors a few moons before they realized that the animals they labeled as elk were actually the same animals Terryp talked about in that book we read your first day here: elk are wapiti!”
Jon gasped in surprise, and Radan tried to match it, but it came out more as a coughing fit.
Winter slapped him on the back, which didn’t help. “We’ll head over there as soon as we’re done eating. Are all of them here?”
“The two are already on their way over to the meadow. The third is coming up with the cattle,” the guard told him vaguely. “You know how he likes to ride up with the herds.”
Winter nodded. “Well, then—boys, would you like to meet some not-so-mythological creatures?”
“Yes, please!” Jon said.
Radan grinned. A genuine, heart-felt grin. “Absolutely. On the west side of this ridge, you say?” West was as good a place as any to start searching for Edge. “I’d love to.”
While Jon wolfed down the rest of his sandwich, Radan subtly slipped a chunk of cheese, jerky, and several slices of bread into his jacket pockets.
He didn’t plan to be back for dinner.
---
Perrin rubbed his hands eagerly, eyeing the elk herd sedately feeding and chewing their cud in front of him. Frequently he glanced behind him, up the slope he and Shem had just come down. It wouldn’t take Winter, the lieutenants, and their guards long to come down it. While it was steep grasses, interspersed with jagged rocks, there were plenty of safe footholds. He assumed the young officers would want to jog down here as soon as they saw the elk. He was sure Jon would. He’d told Jon on a few occasions, during their secret talks, that wapiti were real, and soon some would come through the area on their annual migration. The lieutenant could hardly wait. Perrin so wished he could have arranged for an elephant to wander through, just to astonish Jon. But when he’d come to Salem next week, Perrin would take him to the university and show him the life-size paintings on display
But before all of them could see the wapiti, the group had to climb the slope which rose from the glacial valley, which might take about half an hour, depending upon how eager and in shape they were.
It’d been about that long since Perrin estimated the scout had delivered to them his proposal of meeting on this side of the mountain, and he could hardly wait to see their reaction to the wapiti, then to see Radan’s reaction to him.
That would be the test, and the determiner: how would he take to meeting the dead colonel, who wasn’t so dead?
Perrin already knew how it’d play out. Radan would gasp, stagger in surprise, then his shock would eventually morph in to a grin, and he’d readily accept Perrin’s embrace, because what could be more powerful evidence of the world’s lies than him and Shem, alive?
Shem, however, standing next to Perrin with his arms folded, brooded and glared at the meadow.
Perrin gently elbowed him. “Trust me—it’ll be good.”
“If you say ‘trust me’ one more time,” Shem quietly boiled, “I’m going to punch you.”
Perrin chuckled, then stopped when he realized Shem wasn’t smiling. He scooted a few protective inches away from him. “Would Guide Gleace be coming up to meet them if he didn’t think today was the day?”
“He’s coming,” Shem hissed under his breath, “because you insisted today be the day. He’s coming only to see what you’ve been up to, not because he endorses—”
“Look! There they are!” Perrin pointed to the top of the ridge several hundred yards away, where the shapes of several men appeared.
“Over here, over here,” he pulled Shem into a cluster of trees. “I want them to see the wapiti first, be fully enthralled and amazed, then we make our presence known.”
Shem rubbed his forehead and sighed.
---
It didn’t take them long to jog down the slope. The moment they recognized the herd, they were in a hurry, with Jon leading the pack.
“They’re . . . they’re amazing!” he exclaimed, but in a hushed tone so as to not alarm the bull elk and his harem of twenty. They stopped at the edge of the meadow.
Radan cocked his head. “Not quite as big as I imagined—”
“But they’re real! Don’t you get it?” Jon tried to hold back his squeal. “If these are real, everything else can be real!”
The elk, still a hundred paces away, trotted gracefully through the wide meadow to the edge of the trees. It was the loud mooing from the far side of the meadow that was driving them away. A cloud of dust obscured the view, but the thundering sound of an enormous herd of cattle was unmistakable.
“Don’t go!” Offra murmured at the elk, as Winter and the four guards chuckled in understanding.
“There’ll be more, Jon,” one assured him. “They’ll return when the cattle have dispersed.”
“Nice rack on that bull, though,” another guard commented.
But Radan didn’t notice. He was too busy surveying the area. It wasn’t ideal, but it was going to have to do.
He had an idea, and it was this: run.
Just run and run and run through the meadow to the other side of the trees, then hide somewhere until dark. Then . . . he’d pick his way back to Edge, wherever it may be.
He was glad he didn’t have anyone to share the idea with, because they surely would’ve looked at him as if he claimed to be king of the elk. But this was the best opportunity, and desperate times call for stupid plans.
Still it was remarkable, he told himself, how often a seemingly stupid plan worked—
Someone to the side of them cleared his throat.
“Offra and Radan,” said a strangely familiar voice from a cluster of trees, “I’m glad you see that they really are real. And that because wapiti are real, so can be a great many other things . . .”
Radan’s jaw dropped as he recognized the voice, deep and rumbling, and the hair on his arms stood up as, through the trees, came—
“Oh, slag. You’re alive.”
He didn’t realize he said the words out loud.
Or that he’d actually shouted them.
They’d filled his entire head, so naturally they had to blast out of his mouth.
Perrin Shin chuckled, a bit surprised at Radan’s response. “Uh, yes—always have been. Good to see you again, Lieutenant—”
“Colonel Shin!” Jon Offra cried, and ran to embrace him.
Oh, of course he would, a small part of Radan’s mind commented as he watched Shin and Offra hug. The rest of Radan’s brain was far too overwhelmed with the thoughts of Slag. He’s alive. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive . . . And so is Zenos?! Zenos is alive, too? Doesn’t look too happy about it right now, but—
General Snyd! His brain screamed, but this time he kept his mouth shut, They’re slagging alive! Now what?
But fortunately at that moment the small, coherent part of his brain took over, because Shin had finished hugging Offra, who was now embracing Zenos, and Shin was staring intently at Radan.
Radan knew exactly what to do. He held out his hand to shake the former colonel’s, mostly to make sure he was flesh and blood and not some strange manifestation.
Yes, Shin’s grip was still bone-crushing, and he smiled expectantly.
Radan returned it, even though his stomach was twisting and his head was churning. Despite the open air, Radan was sure he was suffocating, and panic grew so rapidly that all of his appendages began to tremble and quake—
General Radan.
The title popped into his head as soon as he released Shin’s hand.
He’d be promoted immediately to General Radan as soon as he handed over these two traitors—
Shin started to speak, and Radan forced himself to concentrate on him instead of the title of general which bounced around his head.
“Radan, I’m sincerely sorry I startled you, but I hope you’ll forgive me, eventually. I was hoping that meeting us again like this would
help solidify in your mind the many ways Idumea has deceived you, and has withheld from you all kinds of marvelous ideas and potential.”
Except for the potential to become the youngest general in the world.
Shin turned to gesture to the meadow. “Look at this place! No one in the world can even imagine this exists, but it does. The world is so vast and holds so many incredible wonders that you’re only beginning to learn. Next week, you’ll see what I’m talking about. Because I plan to take you—”
“Hey!” Shem shouted, cutting Perrin off. “HEY! Where are you going?!”
Radan was sprinting.
He’d picked his spot: a gap between two trees just beyond the herd. The forest thickened again behind it, and he could easily weave through and find a hiding spot. And, he decided, he could run through the herd just to confuse things a bit.
It’d have to do.
He’d made his decision, at the moment Shin had said he’d be taking them away somewhere next week.
But General Radan had different plans for next week.
Perrin blinked in shock to see Radan running straight for the herd. “What does he think he’s do—”
“Dear Creator,” Winter gasped. “He’s escaping!”
By the time Shem, Perrin, Winter, Jon and the four guards started chasing Radan, he was over a hundred paces ahead of them, making quick time across the meadow.
And the elk didn’t appreciate their human invaders. The bull, insulted, began to charge at Offra, but was distracted by a guard shouting to draw his attention. That’s when Offra hit a muddy patch—choosing not to believe it was something worse—and slipped on the grasses. Another guard, trying to keep his eye on a disappearing Radan, nearly collided with an angry cow as she stepped to defend her calf.
Perrin and Shem were more successful, however, dodging and darting and finally breaking through to the edge of the meadow to see—
Nothing but trees.
Shem twisted to Perrin. “I TOLD YOU!”
But Perrin stared hopelessly into the forest, as Jon, Winter, and the four guards caught up to them.
“Which way?” one guard asked.
Another shook his head. “It’s useless with the amount of men we have.”
“But we have to stop him!” Jon insisted. “We have to—”
“We all know what needs to happen, Lieutenant Offra,” Winter told him, frustration thick in his tone. “We’ve also been working the forests for many years, and we know how many men we need to flush out someone in hiding. No sense in us blindly running in there without a plan.”
Perrin said nothing, but stared in bewilderment into the trees.
“The ranchers!” another guard exclaimed. “There should be at least thirty men coming with the cattle. In just a few minutes they’ll be here.”
“Most of them aren’t trained,” Shem said, “but it’s the best option we have. Men on horseback can cover more terrain. But Radan still has that much of a head start.”
“But how far can he get in these trees?” Winter asked. “He’s clueless as to where to go. We’ll flush him out like a pheasant in the back garden.”
“I hope you’re right,” a guard mumbled.
Perrin remained motionless, gaping at the forest before him, disillusioned tears building in his eyes.
“We plot an area to search, based on how fast Radan can move. And I’ve seen him run,” Shem said grimly. “He likely spent all his strength on this dash. He’ll be progressing far slower now.”
---
Radan slipped into a gully—accidentally. But as he found his footing at the bottom of it, he decided this place was as good as any for a well-deserved rest. He looked around, saw nothing but dense undergrowth, towering pines, and a few rocks, and slumped to the ground.
He did it! They didn’t even follow him into the trees. Just like everyone else in the world, they stopped at the forest line.
And Perrin Shin and Shem Zenos were still alive.
Slagging idiots.
Oh, if General Snyd could see this.
No, he’d said, back in Harvest Season. There’s no way they could still be alive. Snyd was as stupid as the rest of them. When Radan returned with the notes stowed in his socks and the directions to finding Shin and Zenos, not only would the Thornes lose their positions, but so might even Snyd.
And who would be in position to replace the Advising General? Or even the High General?
Radan tried to slow his panting, and his planning, in order to hear if anything was around, but all that was approaching was the sound of cattle mooing, and they were closing in.
He leaned against a log to catch his breath, and looked up at the sky above him.
Today, it was a cloudless blue, just as it always was.
---
“Lost a man, did you?”
The rancher in his sixties shook his head admonishingly, as if his grandson had just confessed to dropping his pie on the ground. “And now you need some help?”
Shem’s arms were still folded as cattle swirled around him.
On Shem’s order, Perrin had moved up into the forest to keep the arriving animals from stampeding. Perched on a large boulder, he crouched anxiously, like a guilty mountain lion.
Shem nodded to the mounted rancher. “We have a rat of a man who escaped the world and now has escaped us. I need everyone you can spare to conduct a search in the forest west of here.”
The man smiled easily. “I’m sure we can assist our Assistant Zenos. We have about twenty men, with ten more bringing in the strays. Guide Gleace is back there, with his son. Should we find your lost rat before he arrives?”
“That would be ideal, yes,” Shem sighed.
The rancher nudged his horse away from Shem, then put his fingers into his mouth and whistled a complicated pattern.
Back along the tree line, Perrin leaned over to Winter standing with him. “What was that all about?”
“The ranchers have a system of whistles to communicate with each other. Can’t even bring your cattle up here unless you know how to whistle,” he said.
Perrin watched in fascination as a few more men rode up as quickly as the growing herd would allow. In the distance he heard the whistle repeated, likely calling in riders from the edges of the broad meadow. Within a few minutes Shem was surrounded by men of all ages on horseback. Perrin watched Shem gesturing to the forest beyond, pointing out landmarks and indicating who should go where. Moments later, the men began to head into the trees beyond Perrin.
Feeling it was now safe, Perrin hopped off the boulder to pace along the tree line.
“I’m going after Radan,” he told Winter.
“No, sir,” he said patiently, sitting down on a log. “We’re to wait here, remember? We escort Radan back to the fort. I stay here in case he’s injured; you stay here in case he’s belligerent.”
“Shem’s doing this to punish me, you know,” Perrin decided, continuing his pacing. “He knows how badly I need to reach Radan, and he doesn’t want . . . wait a minute. Where are the cows going?”
“Cattle,” Winter corrected him. “Cows are females, and there are several bulls as well as many calves among them. And they’re going wherever they wish. Except, interestingly, not over here.”
Perrin stared in amazement as the cattle broke up into their own groups, some heading east up the ridge toward the glacial valley, some turning to the trees in the west, a few seeming to go back north, and a large group headed south, making a wide berth around him.
“But you’ll lose them!” Perrin pointed out.
“For the season, yes,” Winter said. “They graze and get fat, and just before the Harvest Festival we come back and retrieve them. The cattle know when Snowing Season is coming, and they’re happy to follow us back to Salem.”
Perrin watched the parade of beef. “Guide Gleace said something once about using me to chase the stragglers back to Salem.”
“There are always a few young bulls who think th
ey’d prefer to stay out here all Snowing Season. Those are the ones who know little about wolves and their appetites. We just need to nudge those rebellious boys back home.”
Perrin sighed in exasperation as he stood there, useless.
“This is ridiculous!” he declared a minute later. “Now the cows—cattle—are invading the forest! All Radan has to do is hunker down for the day, then sneak away between two bulls at night.”
“Not between two bulls, surely—”
“You know what I mean, Winter!” General Shin snapped. He immediately held up both hands in apology.
Winter nodded his acceptance.
“I can’t just sit here!” But he did as he watched another wave of roast-on-the-hoof complain their way up into the trees and to where the ranchers were searching for Radan. Within minutes, the meadow in front of him was nearly emptied of animals.
“I think it’s safe for you to step out of the trees,” Winter informed him. “I also don’t see any reason why you can’t head up the mountain in search of Radan. The cattle are ahead of you now. Perhaps you might find something?” He winked at Perrin.
Perrin nodded gratefully and started in an awkward, slippery jog up the hill. Cattle had no sense of hygiene.
---
Radan was pinned.
Curled up in a ball, in the cavity under a boulder, with a large wet nose sniffing him. Radan kicked at it.
The calf jumped back and bleated angrily, which brought his mother to investigate, which meant an even larger, wetter nose snuffing and spraying at Radan, who tried to shield his face.
“Just get out of here!” Radan bellowed. “Disgusting!” He didn’t worry about anyone hearing him, because the mooing was deafening. He’d made it to the top of the ridge on the west side of the meadow and paused to see what was happening down below. That’s when he saw the first cattle come up, and the men on horses.
It was a mad scramble after that, to find a hiding place while hundreds of smelling creatures searched for the ideal places to drop their offerings. There were several steaming samples in front of Radan already. Soon the stench would drive him from his hiding place, if his need to vomit didn’t force him out earlier.
“This is insane!” he declared as he peered between cow legs to see what might be happening beyond the top of the ridge. All he saw were more cow parts. And bull parts. It turned his belly.
“I’m running out of time,” he mumbled. “These things could be here for hours! Days! Who deliberately loses their cattle in the forests?”
A horse and rider trampled suddenly in front of his boulder, paused, then moved along.
Radan swallowed down a terrified lump in his throat. “They couldn’t have heard me,” he whispered, then slapped his hand in front of his mouth just in case.
He had to get out of there.
---
Shem stood high on a ridge and scanned the terrain. Trees, shrubs, rocks, logs, and cattle, as far as the eye could see. He sighed in frustration and closed his eyes to clear his mind.
Somewhere, Radan was hiding. Where? Where—
Struck with an idea, Shem opened his eyes and looked down the slope behind him again. There was a distinct openness in the terrain a few hundred paces below him, where no cattle wandered.
That’s because Perrin was.
Shem grumbled as Perrin glanced up and caught his eye. He waved guiltily and continued to pick his way around the evidence that several hundred cattle had working digestive systems.
“That’s why you’re wearing boots,” Shem called down to him. “And I told you before, tuck in your trouser legs! Why are you here?”
“Winter thought it was safe now,” he said as he made his way up to Shem “For the cattle, that is.”
Perrin joined him to look around. His sigh said it all.
“No, it’s not hopeless,” Shem read his mind. “Although it’s seeming quite impossible at the moment. Chaos is exactly what he needs to give us the slip, and nothing says chaos more than a thousand head of cattle.”
“It may be early for this,” Perrin began hesitantly, “but yes—you told me so.”
“Save the apologies for later.” Shem stared out at the terrain. He slowly pivoted, looking for any sign that someone had found Radan.
Perrin peered deep into the shadows as well. “I am sorry.”
“Save it.”
“I realize now—”
“SAVE IT!”
Perrin clamped his lips shut.
“There!” Shem whispered and pointed down the slope they had come up. “Do you see it?”
Perrin squinted. “I’m trying to . . .”
“By that boulder,” Shem gestured again, as if that would make what he saw clearer. “Near the ground.”
Perrin squinted harder. “I think—”
“And don’t just pretend to see it,” Shem snipped. “Tell me if you actually do.”
Perrin nodded obediently, but his eyes bounced from one large boulder to another.
Shem exhaled in exasperation.
“Losing patience with me, aren’t you, Shem? I understand—”
“Save it!”
Perrin opened his mouth but then shut again.
Because he did see something, moving parallel to their position, below them on the slope. It was a crouching figure, but too far away for positive identification. He seemed to be using a black cow as cover. Since he was wearing brown clothing, the animal wasn’t the best choice.
“Stay close to the trees,” Shem whispered to Perrin above the mooing behind them. “I’ll jog ahead to catch him from the front, while you stay back to cover his retreat.”
Perrin nodded and began to creep quickly down the slope while Shem trotted in a line perpendicular to him.
---
Follow the cattle.
It was his only chance. They stank, they moved awkwardly, they stank—
Radan couldn’t get the stench out of his mind. He’d likely never eat beef again.
But they were just the right size to conceal him.
Follow the cattle . . .
---
Perrin had lost sight of the figure that must have been Radan, but still he trotted in the same direction. With any luck, Shem or a rancher would already have apprehended him. Perrin didn’t want to be the first, because his first words would be, “Why?”
Why couldn’t Radan just try? Just listen to what Perrin had to offer? What was so alluring about the world that Radan was willing to give up all of this for something so much less?
To Perrin, rejecting this life was like throwing away a beautiful cake to snatch a shriveled bean. And beans were revolting.
But Perrin had to understand this. How could he defend Salem against the world if he couldn’t comprehend what made the world so obtuse?
He continued along the side of the slope, realizing that he was the “Guarder” now, looking for the soldier.
And then he spotted him.
The man, who Perrin was now sure was Radan, had swapped cows and was traipsing along with a brown one, doing a half-squatting, half-loping movement to keep up with the animal that didn’t appreciate his new-found affection for her, or for her camouflage.
Radan was about three hundred paces away from Perrin, with all kinds of terrain between them.
Perrin searched for a scout or rancher who might be nearer, but found no one. Everyone had headed over the ridge and were going down the other side. No one had suspected Radan would double back.
Rather clever, Perrin hated to admit. But worse than that, Radan was headed in the direction of Mount Deceit. If he continued northwest, then went up and over the ridge, he’d find himself in the canyon next to it. And at the end of that canyon was the dead village of Moorland.
Should Radan recognize Deceit, he could make it to Moorland in just a couple of hours, and be back to Edge before nightfall.
Thorne would have his report by bedtime.
Frantically Perrin looked around for
a strategy—
And then it found him.
A bull was coming back over the ridge, apparently deciding it was too crowded on the other side. Behind him was a mass of his friends—cows, calves, and some younger bulls—and they all spied the meadow below them looking like Paradise.
Perrin sighed. It was cruel, but he had no other choice. They poured over the ridge, maybe a hundred strong, and just for him.
Perrin spotted Radan, glanced again at the approaching herd, and made a few quick calculations.
---
Jon stood at the bottom of the slope in the meadow, but all he saw was livestock. Radan was headed back to Edge, and everything would fail.
That thought made him sick. He massaged his hands and paced, looking up, looking around, looking down to see what he had slipped in, then looking up again. Nothing. Absolutely noth—
No, something. Nearly at the top of the ridge he saw a figure, but its stance was different than Radan’s. The man raised his hands high above his head, then he started to run at a mass of animals on its way back down. When Jon heard the distant yelling, he knew only one man’s voice could carry that far.
General Shin.
And he was chasing the cattle.
---
Shem knew the sound, and it sent shivers down his back. The ground trembled, and he spun to see the source.
The stampede of a hundred head of cattle barreled down the slope to the meadow. Shem was grateful he was to the side of it. Maybe there were wolves up there, he mused as he climbed on top of a stack of rocks for a better view of the panicked animals.
Or maybe it was just . . . Perrin?
But why? He was running, shouting, and waving his arms like—
Shem spun to scan the terrain below him. There, sprinting faster than he ever had in his entire life, was Radan, leading the stampede to the meadow.
---
They’d come out of nowhere! He was jogging next to one solitary brown beast, then suddenly they came like an avalanche of mooing boulders, and all Radan could do was run.
---
Jon scrambled to the top of a boulder for a better view, and to avoid being trampled, and noticed Radan sprinting into the meadow in the lead of a very noisy, very swift parade.
But he wasn’t fast enough. How the cattle could lumber so swiftly was astonishing. They caught up with Radan, then surrounded him, then Radan stumbled—
---
Shem gripped his head when he saw Radan go down. There was no way—no possible way—any of this was going to end well.
He’d seen stampedes before.
Nothing survives.
---
Perrin had put his arms down a while ago, feeling badly for causing so many creatures to think the end of their lives was running straight for them. He slip-slided and jogged down the slope on his way to the meadow. He was sure he’d seen Radan flushed out of hiding. Now it was a matter of finding him in the swirling panic of steak.
---
Jon strained to see the lieutenant in the swarm, but there were simply too many animals. They continued to run to the east through the meadow and up the other side. If they continued over that hill, they would descend on the glacial fort in just a few minutes. But the race up the hillside would tire them out, Jon hoped. The fort would be safe.
The meadow, on the other hand, was a trampled mess. As the herd thinned, Jon saw Radan lying on the ground.
Motionless.
---
Perrin broke through the tree line. Everything before him was moving except for one brown lump in the middle of the meadow. A calf stumbled over it, causing Perrin to flinch.
“No, no, no,” he whispered as he rushed to the body, his presence having the effect of scattering the last of the animals. He dropped to his knees next to his former lieutenant.
“Oh, Radan. I’m so sorry. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”
He heard someone approaching, and turned to see Jon stop a few feet away.
Perrin turned back to Radan and winced. His legs were obviously broken, twisted at odd angles. That was probably why Jon was now retching into the grasses behind him. Radan’s arm was flopped over his face, and Perrin leaned forward to gently move it aside to see the young officer’s face—
—and found himself staring at an army-issued long blade digging into his neck.
Perrin gulped.
The ferocity of Radan’s expression startled him. His teeth were clenched and his other hand gripped Perrin’s shirt so tightly around his throat that he could barely breathe.
“Why’d you have to still be alive, Shin?!”
Astonished, Perrin didn’t know how to respond.
“Why couldn’t you just let me go?!” Radan rasped. “You’ve ruined everything! Everything! Why couldn’t you just let me live my life?”
“You’re alive?” Jon exclaimed, rushing over to him.
“I don’t know,” Radan snarled, forcing the point of the blade into Perrin’s neck, nearly piercing his flesh. “I can’t feel anything from my chest down.”
Perrin had to fix this, right now. “Give me the—” he was trying to say, knife, son. But Radan had other ideas. With the last of his strength he hauled himself up on Perrin with one hand, and attempted to plunge the knife into his neck with the other.
Perrin’s brain never had a chance to give its suggestion as to what to do next, because his training took over.
General Shin wrenched the knife out of Radan’s hand and plunged it into his heart.
That’s when his mind finally caught up, and he stared in horror at the lieutenant who went limp.
“Dear Creator . . .” was all Perrin could whimper.
Jon finished emptying his stomach in the grasses.
“What did you do?!” was the next thing Perrin heard.
Shem, who’d been running across the meadow, arrived to see the long knife protruding from the dead soldier.
Perrin sat clumsily. “I just . . . I just—”
“He had no choice!” Jon declared loyally as he wiped his chin. “Radan tried to kill him!”
Perrin only dimly heard the argument which ensued between them. He stared at the knife, wondering where it had come from, and wondering how it got into Radan’s chest.
Perrin didn’t do that.
No.
He’d never kill a soldier, an officer. One of his.
He had killed many men before, but none who he had chatted with and eaten with.
“—not like he was going to jump up and chase him!” Shem was shouting, but in Perrin’s head he sounded hazy.
“You didn’t see what happened! He nearly slashed Shin’s throat! He had to defend himself!” Jon shouted distantly back.
Perrin only stared.
Until a distant movement on the eastern hillside caught his eye.
Someone had come over from the fort on a horse, and he was sliding off of it. Although he was far away, Perrin immediately recognized the man’s stance—or, more accurately, his presence—which seemed to fill the entire meadow.
It was Guide Gleace.
Perrin wasn’t sure where the words came from, but they streamed from the guide straight into Perrin’s mind.
It couldn’t have been more dreadful if it were the Creator Himself saying, “Oh, Perrin. What have you done?”
Chapter 34--“The Creator will provide us with a solution.”