Soldier at the Door (Book 2 Forest at the Edge series)

by Trish Mercer

The next day Joriana hugged her grandchildren, then hugged them again until they giggled and squirmed to be released.

  “Oh, I wished we could stay longer.” She sniffed as she stood up and watched her grandchildren toddle off to Peto’s bedroom in search of his squishy ball.

  Mahrree put an arm around her mother-in-law. “So do I, Mother Shin. At least this was an unexpected and pleasant visit for unpleasant reasons.”

  “You can still come with us. We can have soldiers help you pack up, and you can be moving in by the end of next week—”

  Mahrree shook her head. “Mother Shin, we’ve gone over this. You know how Perrin hates Idumea. He’d be miserable, and then so would everyone else. He’ll find a way to make Edge safe. I know it.”

  Joriana nodded and hugged her daughter-in-law. “If ever you change your mind . . . Well, Relf and I will stop at the burial grounds on our way out. Make sure they get the headstones placed properly. I’ll give my regards to your father, since Hogal and Tabbit are close neighbors of his now.”

  Mahrree smiled. “Thank you. I—” But she stopped when she heard the coach pulling up in front of the house.

  The women smiled sadly at each other and hugged again.

  “Guess it’s time to go,” Joriana sighed. “Jaytsy! Peto! Say bye-bye to Grandmother! Grandfather will be coming to the door soon.”

  The children ran out of the room with their arms in the air for one more hug while Mahrree walked to the front door to open it for her father-in-law who would soon be standing there. He never came in, but would tip his cap to her and his grandchildren who’d stare at his shiny medals and large sword while he called for his wife.

  When Mahrree opened the door she saw the soldier acting as footman was already picking up Joriana’s bag from the front porch, and the High General was coming up the walk with Perrin right behind him.

  Instead of stopping at the door, though, the High General paused and then he walked into the small gathering room, which shrank even more in relation to his presence. He watched as his grandchildren gave their grandmother one last hug.

  Perrin came in behind him and shrugged at Mahrree, unsure of why his father had come into the house.

  Relf took off his cap, swallowed, then walked over to his grandchildren.

  The toddlers released their grandmother and stared at him instead.

  He never stood a chance against them, their soft round cheeks framing their massive questioning eyes, one set dark brown, the other pale gray.

  Abruptly he knelt down and scooped Jaytsy into his left arm and Peto into his right, pulling them close.

  Joriana’s eyebrows went up, and Mahrree and Perrin couldn’t even speak.

  The children giggled. They didn’t mind his medals at all.

  Grandfather Shin kissed each toddler on the head, squeezed their little bodies, and released them. He stood up, gave them a formal nod, caught Mahrree in a succinct hug, and then replaced his cap.

  “Come, Joriana,” he cleared his throat of unfamiliar emotions, “Long drive back to Idumea, and we have the burial grounds to stop at first.”

  ---

  Two men sat in the dark office of an unlit building.

  “A rousing success, I’d venture to say.” Brisack sifted through stacks of notes in front of him. “The largest amount of men ever coordinated, the most ambitious effort ever staged, three villages completely shocked and dazed, and the rest of the world fully panicked and embracing their forts and commanders! They’re even sending messages of gratitude to the Administrators. Apparently many villages are reporting ‘suspicious activity’ to their commanders, bypassing the magistrates and enforcement officers completely.”

  Mal merely shrugged. “Not a complete success . . .”

  But Brisack was still smiling. “And another benefit—since so many Guarders were killed, what we have to pay out to the survivors will be even less. Taxes won’t have to go up so high next season after all.”

  “Oh, they’ll still go up,” Mal intoned. “Pay for new schools, new levels of educational supervisors, forts for the last villages—”

  Brisack looked thoughtful. “But we could probably reduce the tax rate a little—”

  “—the improvements of the Administrative offices,” Mal continued, “additional assistants for each administrator—”

  Brisack bobbed his head back and forth.

  “—funds for improving personal libraries and assistants to run those personal libraries—I’ve included yours in that as well, Doctor.”

  The good doctor reluctantly nodded. “I could use an addition to my library. Something of stone, to keep all my original records safe?”

  Mal smiled smoothly. “Would it need some expensive artisans to construct it?”

  Brisack kept nodding, slowly. “But it gives men work, doesn’t it?”

  “Working in stone like that—it would be a pity to not let a sculptor or two work some embellishments,” Mal suggested. “Would raise taxation maybe only . . . a quarter slip of silver per citizen to make something truly beautiful.”

  Brisack’s mouth formed an o as he envisioned a stone sculpted library in his own home. “With all that effort, I should likely make it big enough for both of our collections.”

  Mal waved that away. “Nah, I think I’ll just have one made for myself. Make it half a slip of silver, then. I’ll send a message to the Administrator of Taxation to adjust the rate increase for ‘miscellaneous building projects.’”

  Brisack had the decency to look a bit embarrassed. “It’s only that all my research needs to be protected. It is benefiting the entire world. Once it’s completed,” he added, knowing full well they had never discussed when the project would be ‘complete.’

  Mal’s smooth smile continued. “No need to justify anything to me, my good doctor. The world is here to serve us, after all. That we give back to them is simply mutual kindness.”

  His companion relaxed. “Plus we’ll need the increase in taxes to finish building forts and adding soldiers. You know, when you think about it all, I dare say this was almost too easy!” he chuckled.

  Mal did not. “So if it all was so easy, why is he still alive?” His smooth smile vanished, replaced by an indignant scowl. “His wife and children? Even his mother-in-law? I knew this would fail again.”

  Brisack held out his hand in amazement. “Look at these numbers! Look at what we accomplished! It’s astounding! Haven’t you whipped enough dogs and horses? Yet all you can do is obsess over one man and his family?”

  “What I want to know is, good doctor, why aren’t you?”

  “I didn’t warn him, if that’s what you want to know!” Brisack spat. “He did this all on his own.”

  Mal eyed him. “You sound almost relieved by that.”

  Brisack shrugged briefly.

  “You are! You’re happy that our men failed!” Mal sneered.

  Brisack held up his hands in surrender. “Not entirely. It’s just that . . . the past few weeks I’ve been thinking that . . . it would have been sad had those young children—”

  Mal pulled a face. “Would have been sad? Don’t tell me you were starting to feel guilty?” he hissed.

  Brisack only looked at his hands.

  Mal rolled his eyes. “Why did I choose you? Gadiman would never feel guilt. He’d never let such an infantile tendency cloud his judgment to feel anything remotely like regret. Man’s greatest weakness! Guilt, regret, feeling bad about behavior,” he simpered. “I thought you were beyond such base emotions. This is how humans are worse than animals. It’s a forced condition, you know. Shame about a misdeed. Sorrow for causing offense. A behavior taught to humans that can, and must, be overcome! Ignore it long enough, it dies away as simple as that. I even taught a sense of shame to the dogs I experimented on. Within a season I could condition any ferocious dog into a cowering beast—”

  “Reacting to abuse is not the same as feeling regret,” Brisack murmured.

  “What was that? Abuse? Ha!
Humans abuse themselves. With guilt. With regret. It holds them back, makes them feel as if they owe some duty to others, as if there should be some level of behavior all should aspire to. Well, there isn’t! Look at you. Nothing tragic even happened to those snotty children, and still you’re wasting time to feel guilt for something that didn’t even happen. Pathetic.”

  Brisack shook his head. “No one’s forced me to feel guilt. And I don’t feel responsible. I merely would have felt loss at the end of an intriguing study that you insisted on cutting short.”

  “You wanted to as well! Said you were getting bored a while ago, remember?”

  “Another base human behavior,” Brisack contended. “Animals never feel boredom, and neither should I. I was merely being infantile, as you claimed, by being bored. But now I see how much more can come from studying the Shins. The major still lost his great aunt and her husband. Even the High General was so shaken that he and Mrs. Shin left immediately for Edge.”

  Mal scoffed at that. “The High General didn’t care. He was simply reacting to his wife as an obedient dog should. Wasn’t his family, it was hers. Relf has a few other concerns on his mind right now,” he said vaguely.

  “So,” said Brisack crisply, “why wasn’t the raid up to your expectations? Were Major Shin’s soldiers really that well trained, or was our leadership in the north that ineffectual?”

  Mal nodded, recognizing the shift in topic. He went along with it. “There’ll be many questions asked. And my first is, why hasn’t our quiet man in Edge reported back yet? This is precisely the kind of incident where he should remain in contact. No soldiers died there, so he must be still alive.”

  “Maybe injured?” offered Brisack.

  Mal shrugged. “If he is, then he’s showing an extreme amount of dedication to remain in character. Perhaps we should send him some assistance.”

  Brisack nodded. “Let’s slip in some help with the new soldiers going to Edge. I’m more concerned about him becoming too dedicated. Perhaps he may have had something to do with the ineffectiveness of the raid. We should consider,” he hesitated to continue his sentence, “that we may be losing him to the major.”

  Mal squinted. “I’m more concerned that I may be losing you to the major. Gadiman keeps asking when he can join our level. Perhaps I need to start considering that.”

  “Only if you want complete failure,” Brisack said darkly.

  ---

  Ever since the loss of his great aunt and uncle and the High General’s visit, the major had been solely focused on fortifying Edge. Until he had a new plan implemented, his single-mindedness wouldn’t let anything else interfere. That’s why his temper was nearly non-existent when someone knocked on his office door unexpectedly three weeks after the attack, on the 84th Day of Weeding Season.

  Major Shin had been in his office going over his ideas with his lieutenant. They’d analyzed the flaws of their response and were finalizing the first step of a new system. That the Guarders infiltrated so quickly and deeply into the village was troubling. Major Shin wasn’t about to let that happen again. Lieutenant Karna was just standing up to leave when the soldier on duty in the forward office opened the door.

  “Sir, the magistrate and chief of enforcement are here. And no, they don’t have an appointment,” he said, anticipating the major’s question.

  Karna looked at Shin.

  “Stay, Karna. I want your input. Private, send them in.”

  Magistrate Cockalorum, a thick squatty man in his sixties with a propensity for perspiring, nervously entered the office. Shin kept a sharp eye on him. The last time Cockalorum was there was a full season ago, then to hear how Major Shin was now the ultimate authority in the village. Much had changed in three moons, and in a way Perrin was glad that this dithering man was more concerned with his image than with the realization that the village was actually under Major Shin’s control. He never had much faith in men who wanted to be known as leaders.

  Cockalorum glanced out the windows and dabbed his handkerchief over his pale bare forehead wiping off sweat he likely generated huffing up the long stairwell to the tower. Perrin hoped he realized that nothing in Edge was beyond his sight.

  Chief Curglaff stood behind Cockalorum, his demeanor not nearly as nervous, but his jaw set in determination. In his early forties, the chief was in far better physical condition. His belly paunch wasn’t nearly as exaggerated as the magistrate’s, and his light-soil-brown skin was tanned a deeper brown from his many hours in the sun.

  The major rose from his desk and extended his hand without his usual smile. “What brings you all the way up here today, Magistrate? I assume it’s important enough to not schedule my time?”

  Mr. Cockalorum shook his hand, then stepped back to let the chief of enforcement acknowledge the major.

  The chief hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and reluctantly took his hand.

  The major eyed him. Something definitely had changed. Three weeks ago most the village saw them arm in arm in the morning of the aftermath talking like brothers. But given time, distance, and the power of pernicious thinking, any familial relationship can disintegrate.

  “Well . . . actually . . . Major, there’s something that’s come up,” the magistrate began haltingly. He looked around for a chair and took a seat only after the major did.

  Major Shin looked at the chief who remained standing, staring at the lieutenant.

  “Does he need to be here?” the chief asked sharply, his brown eyes narrowing.

  Karna, who was leaning against a cabinet, stood up and looked at the major.

  “I’d prefer that he does, Chief Curglaff, unless you feel otherwise?”

  “I do,” said the chief flatly. “What we have should be for your ears only.” He sent a withering glance to the lieutenant who only looked amused at the attempt to intimidate.

  “Apparently, Lieutenant Karna, my guests would feel more comfortable if you waited in the forward office. I’ll send for you if I need you,” the major said coldly.

  Karna nodded and promptly left, shutting the door behind him.

  The major indicated the empty seat and Chief Curglaff sat down with a glower, the detailed map of Edge behind him covering two holes in the wall he didn’t know about. The chief had a well-practiced gaze, firming the muscles in his tight face and turning his mouth into a subtle scowl.

  Shin folded his hands in front of him on the desk in a manner to suggest he was open to anything, but his face said otherwise.

  “As I was beginning to say, Major,” started the magistrate again, automatically wiping his forehead although nothing as there, “there’s been some, shall we say, that is, that is, that is . . .” Cockalorum stumbled.

  Maybe it was the height of the office, Perrin considered smugly. The weight of his words couldn’t quite reach the height of his mouth to come out. All he could manage was froth.

  Chief Curglaff sighed impatiently. “Major, there seems to be some . . . some . . .” Now that Shin’s stony look was aimed at him, the chief found sudden empathy for his babbling companion, but he had more fortitude. “Rumor,” he said in his usually brusque manner.

  “Rumor,” the major repeated.

  “Yes,” Curglaff said more confidently. “Some have suggested the raids were convenient.”

  The major leaned forward slightly. “For who?”

  “For proving that the Administrators were correct in giving you so much power. As a message to the village, for you.” Curglaff swallowed hard and waited for the response.

  The major’s mouth twitched slightly. “Convenient . . . for me,” he stated dully. His hands came together more tightly.

  “Yes, well, you see,” the chief bravely continued. “You see, the rumor is that what happened was to prove the Administrators were right. Putting you in charge of everything because of a threat of Guarders from the inside? Well, who’s going to believe that? Never happened before. People are upset. They wonder what it means, you and
the fort in charge. So the attack proves the decision was correct!”

  His mustache twitched as his tone became sarcastic. “Certainly the chief of enforcement can’t recognize the Guarder threat in the village. The magistrate doesn’t know who to trust. So there you have it! Only the major and the fort, which have been here for only a few years and know next to nothing about the village, can take care of it!”

  Major Shin still didn’t move.

  “It was the timing, you see,” Curglaff’s voice began to lose a little confidence under the motionless stare. “Convenient.”

  “Tell me, Cockalorum—,” the major turned suddenly to look at the magistrate.

  The magistrate looked quickly at the chief, wondering how he suddenly became the target. A new bead of sweat broke out on his shiny scalp.

  “—was your family in any danger the night of the raids?”

  “No, Major. We live on the far south side. The Guarders never made it past the village center. Once they encountered our brave soldiers and enforcement barricade, that was the end of their progress!” He seemed only dimly aware that his answer was sounding like a campaign speech.

  “And Major,” the chief said, “wasn’t it fitting you happened to be in the village green after the debate—which you scheduled—when the Guarder attack was first noticed?” The chief practiced his own rock-hard glare.

  “You’re questioning the location of the command center?” Shin scoffed. “We turned the village green into the command center because you and I were both there, remember? It was the most logical and central place to bring the victims and wounded. I don’t recall you offering any other alternatives. And I also saw the readiness of your men. What did they expect to accomplish with their sticks? They were useless until we armed them with long knives. Had the soldiers not arrived when they did, Chief, I doubt there’d be much left of Edge today. Now tell me, Curglaff, how close to your home did the Guarders come?”

  The chief knew where the major was going with this, but he had no other answer than, “Two roads away,” he scowled.

  The major sat back in his chair. “How many villagers died as a result of the raids?”

  “None directly, but . . . Rector Densal and his wife were counted as related losses,” the chief admitted.

  “You may not be aware, Chief, but Tabbit Densal was my only blood relative in Edge, besides my children. But you are aware that I killed the Guarder that entered their home.”

  The chief’s jaw shifted slightly. He wasn’t going to give up just yet. “And it was fortunate you arrived when you did, wasn’t it Major? How opportune that you knew where to go and when.”

  The major ignored his implication. “The Guarders also visited my home, Chief.”

  Curglaff was prepared. “Yes, and you had two soldiers waiting and ready.”

  “No,” the major said evenly, “I had three. One was in the house. It’s my prerogative to guard my family.”

  He reached to the table behind him filled with files and books, and pulled out a thick stack of tightly bound papers. He tossed it casually on the desk. “New directives from Idumea, issued last season by the Command Board. The commanding officer of the fort may assign a soldier to protect each member of his family in time of crisis. Actually, the wording is quite a bit longer, but that’s the condensed version. You’re welcome to read it. Page 39. Excellent reading for those nights when sleep is elusive.” He pushed the directive toward the chief in challenge.

  The chief only nodded curtly at it.

  “They also attacked the house next to my mother-in-law’s,” the major continued. “I admit I, too, find that a convenient coincidence. Or perhaps it was a sloppy case of mistaken identity. Both houses are of similar design and use the same gardener.” His voice grew agitated. “So considering the violence with which the Guarders attacked, had we not been prepared, I may not have any family left! How convenient would that be for the commander of Edge?”

  The magistrate and chief shifted uncomfortably in their chairs as the major slowly rose out of his seat to lean across the desk. With his face dangerously close to theirs he said, “Chief Curglaff, Magistrate, if any man in Edge has reason to suspect the raid was ‘convenient,’ it would be me!”

  The magistrate took the bitter tone of the major’s voice, and the fact that he was on his feet, as an invitation to stand up as well. Wetness immediately formed on his forehead.

  Chief Curglaff reluctantly joined the magistrate and folded his arms.

  The major stood up tall and straightened his jacket with a forceful jerk. “Anything else, gentlemen?” he asked quietly, suggesting they would regret saying yes.

  The magistrate simply couldn’t abide disharmony. “You understand, Major Shin, this wasn’t our accusation, it’s merely something we’ve heard. And in Edge, you know we strive for a united citizenry—”

  If Cockalorum broke out his ‘Unity in Edge’ campaign speech, Perrin was going to punch him.

  And no one would mind.

  “—We wanted you to be aware of the accusation yourself, Major, so you can deal with it in your usual effective, no-nonsense approach. Ah, I have it! Another debate. We could schedule . . .”

  With both the chief and the major glaring at him it was a wonder Cockalorum didn’t collapse on the spot. He just coughed politely and folded his dabbing handkerchief.

  Chief Curglaff cleared his throat, his tanned face tightening again. “One more thing, Major.” His tone was cold and calculated. “Consider, for one moment, that the young soldier who frequents your home—your selected favorite—also was the first to see twenty Guarders come out of the forest. According to my investigation,” Curglaff emphasized, as if it mattered, “he sent his companion back for help while he went on the chase. The Guarders were on foot. He was on horseback. He didn’t catch up to them until the Guarders went their separate ways at the village borders. That could be considered ‘convenient’.”

  “Corporal Zenos was severely injured. Even my wife’s mother witnessed that,” the major said just as icily.

  The chief nodded. “Of course she did. How fortunate. I saw him too. But he also seemed quite jovial as I passed him on my way up here. Amazing recovery for such a traumatic head injury. He’d appeared to be near death only three weeks ago. But appearances, being what they are—”

  Major Shin’s eyes flashed like lightning. The air around him was charged like a thunderstorm. But his voice remained in control.

  Barely.

  “Chief Curglaff, I trust Corporal Shem Zenos as much as I trust you. I’ll leave it up to you to decide just what that means.” Major Shin took a step toward the door. “Lieutenant!”

  The door flung open and Karna stood ready with a small, smug smile.

  “Will you please see that our guests find their way out of the fort? And incidentally, gentlemen,” Major Shin didn’t mean that title and he made sure his tone reflected that, “later today you’ll both receive a report concerning our plans to secure the village. In the next few weeks soldiers will be visiting each home to find out the names and ages of the occupants. We’ll also implement a labeling system for each home, shop, field, and open hot spring. The next time there’s trouble, and the word comes that Chief Curglaff’s home’s under attack, I want my soldiers to know exactly where to go to rescue his wife and thirteen year-old son. Unless . . . you have any objections?”

  Curglaff squinted when Shin mentioned his son, but Cockalorum saw his opening.

  “An excellent idea, Major!” he beamed. “It would be like a map? May I have a copy? I imagine the chief would appreciate one as well. Marvelous idea.”

  Chief Curglaff glared at the major, but it was the hollow glare of a man who used to know where he stood in the world, but lately had to acknowledge it was all shaky ground. He pushed past the magistrate and lieutenant. “I can find my own way out. Good day,” he said without meaning it, and he was down the stairs.

  The magistrate demonstrated his best smile prac
ticed for such occasions, took the major by the hand and pumped it a bit too eagerly. “Glad to see all is worked out. I look forward to your report!” and he followed after the chief, wiping his forehead as he went.

  When their steps left the stairwell, Shin said, “Lieutenant, in here.”

  Karna closed the door behind him and stood in front of the major.

  “Brillen, what do you think?” Major Shin asked.

  “I think it was wise of you to ‘keep forgetting’ to have those two holes in the walls repaired,” Karna smiled. “Place that chair just right, I can hear everything. The map hides them quite nicely, doesn’t it?”

  Then, more seriously he added in a low voice, “Major, I can’t believe a word of what they suggested. Yes, there are coincidences, but that doesn’t mean anything. Who’d betray you and target your family? And why?”

  That’s what Perrin had been wondering for the past ten minutes.

  No, actually for the past three weeks.

  Dozens of houses were hit, but that two of the houses belonged to his family, and a third was right next door to his mother-in-law, felt deliberate. No other houses near them had been raided by the approximately sixty Guarders.

  He could put together enough reasons of ‘why.’ He was the commander of Edge, after all, and hitting him would send a clear message about the Guarders’ knowledge of the village.

  But it was the question of ‘who’ was sending that message that gnawed at him.

  And old familiar suspicion rose up in his mind, cold and dark. Perhaps this was why it had been there since the beginning, demanding that he reconsider his feelings about a certain young soldier.

  “Karna, get me Zenos. Now!”

  ---

  A few minutes later Corporal Zenos bounded up the stairs two at a time and knocked lightly on the major’s door.

  “Come in!”

  Zenos opened the door and leaned in casually. His happy blue eyes sparkled. “You wanted to see me, sir? Any messages I can deliver?”

  “At attention, Zenos!” the major barked.

  The corporal’s face went gray and immediately he stood stiffly.

  Major Shin stood up and walked behind him to slam the door shut. He positioned himself to stare at Zenos from the side.

  Zenos swallowed nervously and Shin waited until the corporal began to sweat under his gaze. “I’ve just had two visitors, Corporal, who made some very serious allegations.”

  “Yes sir?” Zenos said, trying unsuccessfully to hide his worry.

  “There have been rumors in the village that perhaps the raids were assisted by someone inside Edge.”

  Zenos said nothing.

  “Do you have any insight into those allegations, soldier?”

  “No sir! I can’t imagine who would do such a thing, sir.”

  “Corporal Zenos, your name has been connected to the raids.”

  That drew a response. Zenos turned sharply to face Major Shin, forgetting all about attention and protocol. “Sir! Never! I’d give my life for you, for Jaytsy, for Peto, for Mahrree—”

  “THAT’S MRS. SHIN TO YOU!” the major bellowed in his face.

  Zenos abruptly went back to standing at attention. But his face wouldn’t obey. His eyes grew wet and his smooth chin trembled. “I would give my life for Mrs. Shin, sir. And even her mother. All I do is to save lives, sir.”

  “Corporal Zenos,” the major’s voice was menacingly unemotional, “there were three groups of Guarders that left the forest that night. You noticed the first one, approximately twenty, by your count, who ran on foot. You were on horseback, yet didn’t catch up to them until the village, where you abandoned your horse and pursued on foot. Why?”

  Zenos’s jaw shifted. “I was watching for the different directions they went, Major Shin. So I could report their progress to the other soldiers. And I did, sir. Remember, I told you that I reported the movements to the soldiers coming home from your debate before I followed the intruders to the Arky house. So that the other soldiers could be in pursuit as well. Sir.” He swallowed hard again.

  “There’s something else that has troubled me, Zenos,” Major Shin said, maintaining his glare. “When you were in the Arky home you didn’t draw your sword. Three witnesses said you fought the Guarder, but you didn’t use any weapon. Why is that, soldier?”

  “All I do is to save lives, sir,” he repeated.

  “That’s not good enough!” the major yelled. “Being in the army means taking lives when necessary, Corporal! You’ve been trained, you were in a deadly situation wherein you nearly lost your life. There was a very real possibility that the intruder could have taken the lives of three Edge citizens because YOU failed to do your DUTY! Two other soldiers had to complete the job you refused to do. Why did you refuse to do it, Zenos?!”

  Zenos couldn’t answer. He gulped and shook his head.

  The major considered him for a moment. Zenos had remarkable access to Edge. His natural charm and cheerful face seemed to get him anywhere, even in the butcher’s before it opened and the bakery after it closed.

  Even into the very home of the commanding officer of Edge, unsupervised, and with completely unrestricted access.

  The major scolded himself for such carelessness, such unmitigated trust in someone barely older than a boy. The major half closed his eyes when he considered how often he had left his own children in Zenos’s care. How often he sent him to his wife, alone. He’d had his suspicions, but he’d decided to ignore them because he liked the boy. He had trusted his family completely in the hands of . . .

  Shin shook his head slightly. “Corporal Shem Zenos, I expect an honest answer: Are you a Guarder?”

  The answer was swift and loud, “No sir!”

  “Corporal Shem Zenos, where is the spy you used to feed in the forest?”

  “Gone, sir! Three seasons ago. Remember, sir, we both looked for him. I haven’t seen him since, sir!”

  “Corporal Shem Zenos, are you that Guarder spy?!”

  “No sir!” Zenos shouted louder.

  “Corporal Shem Zenos, can you prove it?” Shin bellowed in his face.

  Zenos’s breathing became more shallow and rapid. A disobedient tear slipped down his cheek. “I . . . I don’t know how to, sir!”

  “You could have proved it by drawing your sword!” Major Shin stared at him until Zenos began to tremble. “Or were you afraid of hurting one of your friends?”

  Zenos quaked. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

  “Granted.”

  Zenos’s eyes darted to see his accuser, but the rest of his body continued to face forward. “I can’t prove anything to you. All I can say is, you must have faith in me. Sir, have I ever, ever done anything you couldn’t trust?”

  “No, Zenos, you haven’t,” the major admitted. “But I want further proof!”

  Zenos slowly shook his head. “I have nothing to offer. But sir, there’s one way for you to know. Ask the Creator. He can tell you if I should be trusted. And sir, if I may be so bold, I believe He already has.”

  “That is too bold, Zenos!” Major Shin shouted.

  The tension was so thick even a sword didn’t have a chance to ding it. The air sat heavily around the two men, threatening to swallow them.

  “And so what’s the answer, sir?” Zenos asked courageously.

  “You are brash, soldier!” Shin shouted. He growled under his breath in aggravation. Neither spoke for several moments as the air in the command office squeezed them.

  Shin stared at Zenos.

  Zenos stared straight ahead and trembled.

  Perrin couldn’t fight the feeling anymore. How it came to him, he wasn’t entirely sure, but it was everything that was Hogal Densal, and it was something he’d heard before.

  My boy, trust this boy.

  The words came with softness and warmth. Perrin’s suspicions, in contrast, always came in cold darkness. Those suspicions, he realized now, came from someone other than the Creator
. But Perrin could always trust Hogal, who suddenly seemed so close that Perrin could almost feel his eyebrows waggling in encouragement.

  In a voice barely above a whisper Perrin said, “Zenos, sometimes I think you are the only man I can trust. I wished I knew why.”

  “Thank you, sir!” Zenos exhaled in relief, his shoulders sagging as he forgot about standing at attention. “You can, sir, with anything.”

  “Then, Shem,” Perrin asked quietly, “why didn’t you draw your sword?”

  Zenos’s face contorted. “I’m sorry, sir. The truth is, I didn’t want to. I never believed in taking a life. I was sure I could stop him some other way. But sir, I’ve never encountered someone so violent before. I misjudged the danger.” He firmed his stance. “It won’t happen again, sir. I see now too much is at stake. In the future I’ll draw my sword, and even use it.”

  “Shem,” Perrin said gently, “you don’t have to kill the man. Only disable him. Give him something to remember you by.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll remember that, sir.”

  Major Shin moved over to sit at his desk. He gestured to the chair across from him and Zenos sat down, looking ill and pale.

  In a barely audible voice Perrin said, “I’m sorry, Shem. I had to eliminate the idea. I know you’re not a spy, but I had to be sure.”

  “I understand, sir.” Shem’s trembling diminished to a minor tremor. “Sir, is there really someone here targeting your family?”

  “I don’t know,” the major sighed. “I have so many questions. They knew which houses contained my family, almost as if they had a map. But when we can’t capture any Guarders alive to interrogate, we get no answers. Rather efficient process they have—commit suicide before questioning. Almost admirable if it weren’t so depraved . . .”

  Major Shin sat thinking about that for so long that the corporal became visibly uncomfortable.

  “Hmm,” the major finally broke the silence. “Zenos, can you do something for me?”

  “Yes sir, anything.”

  “Would you deliver a message to my home?” Major Shin began to smile.

  Zenos burst into a relieved grin. “I live to serve, sir!”

  “Just tell her the storm has yet to pass, to keep her eye on the horizon and watch the color of the sky. She’ll know what it means. Then you take a thorough look around the area, just to appease me, and report back.”

  Zenos nodded and stood up to leave.

  “And Zenos,” the major added, “I’m going to tell her that you called her by her first name. I may require an explanation about that later.”

  Zenos grinned. “Yes sir!”

  Perrin sat back in his chair as Shem closed the door.

  “So Hogal,” he whispered to the room, “who wants to destroy my family? I could really use your insight right about now.”

  His office answered him nothing.

  ---

  Mahrree watched Shem walk up the alley and back down again for the fifth time, after he circled the house four times. She’d kept track of his patrolling as she cleaned up her children’s efforts to rearrange every item in the house located waist-high and lower. There were no creatures in the world quite so good at hiding things as toddlers. Mahrree was just replacing in the kitchen a pair of tongs—scrubbed clean—that she found in the washing room behind the privy, when she spotted Shem again from her window. He didn’t notice her watching him, but when she stepped out onto the back porch, he glanced over and nodded formally.

  “Corporal,” she waved him over.

  He shook his head.

  Mahrree put her hands on her waist and raised her eyebrows in reprimand.

  The corporal sighed and hopped over the fence. Barker came out of his house to greet him, and Shem petted him on the head halfheartedly. Slowly he walked up to the back porch.

  “Ma’am?”

  Mahrree rolled her eyes. “Something’s up besides a storm report. You’re going to talk. Now get in here, Shem!”

  She didn’t know why he looked so gray as he obediently walked into the house and went to the gathering room, but she had a suspicion. The surgeon had declared him fit for duty only a few days ago, but Mahrree thought the surgeon would clear a dying man too, simply to improve his turnaround numbers.

  “Are you feeling all right?” she asked, reaching up to gently touch the healing scar at his hairline. “It’s too soon for you to be patrolling again, I know it. You look terrible.”

  Corporal Zenos tensed at her touch. He shook his head slightly and stood at attention. “I’m fine, ma’am.”

  “Oh, stop that,” she smacked his arm. “We’re alone. Even the children are napping. Now, what have I told you? You’ve been doing it so well, too. No one’s around. Come on, Shem, you can do it.”

  “Sorry . . . Mahrree.” He winced as he said her first name.

  She nodded. “Much better. See? That’s not so hard. Now, what’s going on? My little brother doesn’t keep secrets from me now, does he?”

  Shem exhaled and relaxed his stance. “Um, your husband . . . he, uh . . . thought I was . . .”

  Mahrree took his arm. “Perrin thought what, Shem?”

  He shuddered. “Do you have any idea how frightening he can be, Mahrree?”

  She smiled in sympathy, knowing more than anyone. “A bit, yes. He’s been rather bear-like for the past few weeks. The children and I have been staying well out of his way.”

  “Someone told him someone in Edge was behind the attacks,” Shem blurted. “And the first person he questioned was me!”

  Mahrree’s mouth dropped open in shock. “No! How dare he? Why, why, you of all people? You . . . you’re here all the time! You take care of our children! You even come for dinner and sit with us at the congregational meetings! You’re our favorite soldier—”

  She stopped but kept her hand on his arm.

  “Which, if you were a spy, would give you remarkable access and knowledge about our family.” She looked at the floor, lost in thought. “Hmm.”

  Shem made a choking noise in his throat. “But I’m not one of them! Please, Mahrree!”

  She snapped out of her thoughts. “Oh, Shem—of course you aren’t. I just can see how someone might think that. No, no . . . you’re Uncle Shem!” She gave him a one-armed hug and pushed him gently to sit on the sofa.

  “He scared me near to death, Mahrree,” he stared at the wall as he remembered it. “He apologized afterward, but I’ve never seen his eyes so hard. I don’t think he entirely believed me.”

  Mahrree sat next to him. “Ever since he lost Hogal and Tabbit he hasn’t quite been himself. Give him some time.”

  Shem nodded. “I miss them, too. Rector Densal had a great way of explaining things. In fact, there are a few things I wished I could ask him right now.”

  Mahrree patted his shoulder. “Hogal really liked you, you know. He wanted us to keep you close. Told us several times that you were a most exceptional young man.”

  Shem went pink. “That’s only because I’m the only other soldier in the entire fort that went on Holy Days.”

  “It was much more than that, Shem. Don’t worry too much about Perrin. I think once he sets his new plans in motion, he’ll become easier again. He’s taking all of this very personally and snapping at everyone.” He’d even barked at Barker, which had amazed Mahrree, but only made the black beast blink.

  Shem nodded. “That’s what Lieutenant Karna told me, after. That even Cockalorum and Curglaff said the attacks were ‘convenient’ for the major.”

  Mahrree cringed. “Oh, he’s not going to be much fun tonight. I was thinking of having you over for dinner,” she patted his leg, “but—”

  “I’m on duty until midnight, anyway.” He stood up abruptly, pushing her hand away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be doing this, sitting and talking with you like this. I’m on duty right now!”

  The poor boy, Mahrree thought. Perrin really had him shaken.

  “Part of your duty is informing
me of what’s going on at the fort, especially with my husband,” Mahrree winked at him. “You are a spy, and with more than one commander. Don’t you realize that?”

  Shem turned pink again. “Yes, I’m well aware of that, ma’am. Mahrree,” he corrected himself.

  “Tomorrow night then, Shem. You come over for dinner. I don’t want you going home for leave without the two of you on better terms. Tomorrow he’ll be better. If not,” she bobbed her head back and forth, “I’ll let you know.”

  Corporal Zenos took a more formal stance. “Yes, ma’am. I best get back to the fort. This house is secure. I’ll make my report to the major.” Shem paled a little at the thought.

  Mahrree chuckled. “Chin up, soldier! You’re a hero, remember?”

  Shem looked positively wretched.

  Chapter 14 ~ “Shem, I don’t know if you realize what you’re asking.”