by Trish Mercer
The Administrator of Loyalty sat in his office late at night reading again. Gadiman’s office used more candles than the entire floor combined. Across his desk came news from all over the world. And there was no better way to spend his days, evenings, and nights than making sure he was aware of every incident in Idumea and beyond. Nothing could be more important.
His wife never understood that, and now he was no longer burdened with trying to make her understand. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure exactly when she left. He noticed a few weeks ago that the shelves were getting dusty and bare of food, the dishes overflowing in the basin hadn’t been washed, and that his house had been pleasantly silent for at least a moon’s full phase, maybe even two.
He turned the pages of the file secretly retrieved from the garrison after the High General of Idumea had left for the evening. The full report contained the details of each of the raids and the aftermath. Now every village without a fort was clamoring for increased speed in constructing theirs, and those with forts wanted reinforcements. The three villages targeted would receive fifty more men, and the other forts an additional twenty-five until recruitment numbers could be increased. And now, Chairman Mal—and General Relf Shin—were receiving stacks of letters from citizens praising their “forward thinking” in giving so much power to the commanders.
Gadiman seethed.
It was his idea! All of it!
Well, most of it, about giving more power to the commanders.
But he told it to Mal, and Mal shared his idea with that worm of a man, Doctor Brisack. Brisack didn’t deserve to have that other chair! He didn’t deserve to be Mal’s left hand. That was Gadiman’s position!
But since Gadiman was only a law assessor, not some heady scientist who conducted experiments with grass and bark and sulfur, he wasn’t “good enough.”
Oh, he was good enough to judge the loyalty of the world, to identify which citizens were getting just a bit full of themselves and needed to be knocked down a notch or two. Mal depended heavily on his reports, but still Brisack sat in his chair. How much longer would Mal put up with him?
Gadiman quickly—but precisely—jotted down numbers and names and locations for his own comprehensive report. So many dead, and not the correct ones. If Gadiman had been in charge, there’d be no Shins left alive!
Brisack, what did he do? Gave vague messages, obscure suggestions, and hoped everyone did everything right. He couldn’t even make contact with their so-called Quiet Man, so in the last three incidents Shin wasn’t hurt beyond a scratch on his back.
That was Brisack’s failure. And Gadiman was keeping track of all the good doctor’s failures. Every last number and detail.
Gadiman wouldn’t fail. He knew precisely what to do, and that lieutenant he was training was hungry enough to follow Gadiman’s every command. He could pull this off. He’d succeed where the others failed.
Gadiman only had to wait for Mal to finally be fed up. And he would be, probably by tomorrow. And then the Administrator of Loyalty would demonstrate his immense devotion by presenting the ultimate plan for destroying Shin.
Whichever Shin Mal wanted destroyed.
---
“Finally!” a large man in dark mottled green and brown clothing breathed as he saw the lone figure walking up to the hot spring. He rushed over to the young soldier and embraced him. “You have no idea the worry you’ve caused.”
The young man chuckled and sat down on the log. “Nice to see you again too. I am sorry, but I haven’t been able to leave before now.”
“Understandable.” His companion sat next to him. “We had assurances you would recover, but still—” He took the corporal’s head and looked at the scar healing on his forehead. “I suppose that’s the best they could do. At least it’s at the hairline.”
“So it won’t ruin my boyish good looks?” the young man grinned.
The large man shook his head. “No, no you haven’t changed a bit. Feeling all right?”
He sighed. “Yes. Bit of a difficult day with Major Shin, but I think we’ll come out of it all right.”
“So you still want to continue? We can pull you out—”
“No, absolutely not!” he said. “There’s nowhere I want to be more than here. I’m making excellent progress with the family. It’s almost like they’re mine. My second home,” he added quietly.
The large man eyed him closely. “Some may not be happy to hear that, Shem.”
He nodded apologetically. “I know. Phrase it however you need to. Just let them know I have no intentions of leaving. Certainly not now.”
The large man nodded. “Still going home on your leave?”
Zenos nodded. “Yes, I’ll be up to traveling. I’ve been thinking a great deal about everything and I need to ask a question.”
“Hifadhi will be expecting you.”
---
Barker’s head snapped up late that night, and he ran to the fence by the alley, his tail wagging so wildly it slapped the fence.
“Missed you too, boy,” the man in the black jacket chuckled quietly, tossing him a large piece of bacon. “I’ve got extra tonight. Now, up, up, up!”
Barker immediately stood up and put his paws on top of the fence.
It was going to be a good night.
---
Chairman Mal looked up from his desk in his mansion. The young officer he sent for stood at attention in the doorway. “Sit, Heth.”
The lieutenant took a nearby chair. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes,” Mal said. “You’ve read the report?”
“I’m assuming that was your third test of Shin, correct?”
Mal nodded once.
“And it seems he passed it?”
Mal folded his hands on the desk.
“Which wasn’t exactly what you were hoping for,” Heth said with a small smile that wanted to be a snigger, but he held it in. “Which means . . . I get my chance, don’t I?”
“Lieutenant, I’ve been thinking, and I realize I’m coming at this from the wrong angle,” he said with detached analysis.
But he couldn’t keep it up.
“I want to see Major Shin brought to his knees!” he snarled. “I want him struck so close to home that he feels threatened even in his own bedroom! I want to prove to him he can crumble like everyone else! And I want you to be the one who gets revenge on the Shin family for what they’ve done to you and your family!”
“With pleasure, sir!” Heth said proudly. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Apparently Gadiman has a plan and is anxious to prove his worth to me,” the Chairman said, rubbing his hands. “Brisack has his own plan, but I’m assuming it will fail as usual. We have an insider, but so far he’s been too quiet and hasn’t contacted us. So you and Gadiman have the backup plan. Realize this is not only a test of Shin, but of you and Gadiman. You pass this test, you’ll both be in most enviable positions.”
“Sir, was that an ‘if we pass this test,’ or a ‘when we pass this test’?”
“It better be a ‘when’, Lieutenant. An ‘if’ will see you sharing the same grave as old Master Sergeant Wiles.”
---
Tuma Hifadhi sat at his desk looking out the window, watching for the horse and rider to arrive. When they did, he smiled and stood up to begin his slow shuffle out to the main room. The front door opened a moment later and the young man beamed when he saw the old man.
“Sir!”
Hifadhi smiled at his army greeting. “Come here!” he said holding out his arms. “Let me see that head, Shem.”
Shem grinned and walked over to him. Hifadhi caught him in a quick embrace and pushed him gently to sit down on a chair. Shem sat obediently as Hifadhi brushed back his hairline to examine the scar. He pressed carefully, but Shem flinched.
“Sorry, son,” Hifadhi said. “Seems you’ll have an indentation there for the rest of your life.”
Shem nodded. “That’s the same conclusion the doctor, my father, my sis
ter, and everyone else who has pushed on that spot came to.”
Hifadhi chuckled and sat down next to him. “So good to see you again! I must say, that was a close call.”
“I was fine, sir. Always was! Sir, I have something to ask.”
“Oh?”
Shem swallowed hard and licked his lips. “Sir, I want to ask permission to . . . go back.”
Hifadhi nodded. “You still have about eight moons—”
“No sir,” Shem interrupted. “I mean, go back indefinitely.”
Hifadhi sat back and sighed. “Shem, you know we allow for only a two year commitment.”
Shem leaned forward and took the old man’s hands. “Sir, please—this is different. I must stay with the Shin family.”
Hifadhi interrogated him with his eyes. “I read the report. You said they’re like your own now?”
Shem shrugged and looked at his feet.
“Anything else I should know about?” Hifadhi asked leadingly.
“Sir, I . . . I feel a great need to stay with them.”
“For how long, Shem?”
“For as long as it takes,” he said simply.
Hifadhi raised his eyebrows. “Shem, I don’t know if you realize what you’re asking. ‘As long it takes’? None of us knows how long that is.”
“Sir, this is my life. It needs to be my life—”
Hifadhi held up a hand. “We keep the commitments to only two years for a good reason. After that, people tend to lose their perspective. The possibility that they begin to drift to the other side—”
Shem stood up. “I won’t do that!” he insisted. “I’m strong enough! Please, make an exception in my case.”
Hifadhi raised his hand again. “How can you be so sure you won’t be like others, Shem Zenos?” His voice was quiet, but his tone was firm. “Do you realize what would happen if you forget your purpose?”
“I do, sir. I also know what might happen to the Shin family if I’m not there. They need me. And, to be honest, I need them.” He kneeled down in front of the old man. “Nothing’s more important than this family.”
Hifadhi’s normally kind eyes squinted into something far more penetrating and severe. “To you, Shem?”
“Yes, I’ll confess—to me, sir.” He met Hifadhi’s sharp gaze. “But also to all of us. I know the balance that must be maintained. I have incredible access to the family and their home. I can keep myself separate, and I am keeping my perspective. I can do this, sir. Have I done anything to lose your confidence yet?”
Hifadhi shook his head slowly. “No, Shem. You’ve been exemplary.” He sighed. “We’ve been discussing your unique situation at length. Consider, we could send someone in with you for a time, then—”
“No! No one else. It’s too risky. Please, let me stay. Until . . .”
“Until when, Shem?”
“The end?”
Hifadhi stared deep into his eyes until he saw what he wanted to see.
But he said, “You’d have to keep a low profile, and your name quiet. Make no lasting connections with anyone else. Become as anonymous as possible. Avoid drawing attention to yourself . . . We’ve had some in the past struggle to keep quiet,” Hifadhi reminded him sternly, “and put themselves and others in great peril, even once drawing the attention of the Administrator of Loyalty.”
“I know, sir,” Shem said, his anxious eyes so pleading they could have made a puppy seem hostile. “But, please?”
Hifadhi couldn’t torment him any longer. “Shem Zenos, if it were any other man than you, I wouldn’t be saying this: Tell your father I’m sorry, then tell Major Shin you’ll re-sign, long-term. You’ve decided the army is your career.”
Shem leaped to his feet. “YES!”
Hifadhi put a finger in his ear and wiggled it dramatically. “I know I’m old, but my hearing is still sharp . . . or it was.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I just—”
Hifadhi grinned. “I know, I know. And actually, that was the response I was hoping to see. It is the correct decision, Shem. I’m glad I see it’s what you really want as well.”
Shem nodded, but then his face fell. “I just realized—I have to tell my father now. Sir? Would you consider . . .”
“Telling your father?”
“Yes!” Shem smiled.
“No!” Hifadhi smiled back.
Shem’s mouth dropped open. “Why not?”
“If you can survive a Guarder attack, surely you can survive your father’s response to your news.”
---
A week later, on the 7th Day of Harvest, Corporal Zenos and Private Aims had finished their rounds and were heading back to the fort in the afternoon. Aims glanced behind him. “We’re being followed,” he whispered to Zenos.
“Just figured that out, did you?” Shem smirked. “He’s been following us for nearly ten minutes now. I come off of leave and already it begins . . .”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Wondering how long it would take for you to notice,” Zenos grinned.
Aims glanced back again, not too subtly. “It’s annoying.”
“No, it’s called hero worship,” Zenos said. “Unless you don’t want to be a hero, then—”
“Well, it’s dangerous then!” Aims scowled. “He shouldn’t be tailing us like that, jumping from bush to bush. If there was a real threat, he could be in trouble.”
“I agree. So follow my lead.” Zenos walked on for a few steps then stopped abruptly, grabbed Aims’ arm, dramatically pointed down a road, and took off running down a back alley. Aims followed, sniggering as they went. Zenos cut to the right and ducked behind a shed, and Aims followed him.
Then they waited.
Only seconds later their follower caught up, looking wildly around him.
Zenos burst out from behind the shed, wrapped one of his arms around their tailer, and put another in front of his mouth. He picked him up and dragged the flailing hostage behind the shed. There he plopped him on the ground.
“Qualipoe Hili! What in the world do you think you’re doing?” Shem demanded of the ten-year-old who stared up at him with terrified eyes.
“Come on, Zenos! What was that all about? Scared me nearly to death. Almost wet my trousers.”
“Almost?” Aims smirked, staring at Poe’s legs.
Poe scrambled back to his feet and brushed his blue silk shirt free of debris. “Making me into a mess—”
Shem grabbed his arm. “Answer me, Hili—what’re you doing?”
“Just . . . just wanting to see what you were doing,” Poe sighed.
Shem released him. “Playing soldier?”
“No, not playing—planning. I want to join up!” Poe declared.
“You’re still a bit young, you know.”
“I know,” Poe shrugged. “It’s just that . . .”
“Just what, Poe?”
“Not much fun around here,” he mumbled.
“Edge of Idumea Estates? Or your new After School Care?”
Poe nodded sadly. “No soldiers. No Terryp. Only . . . work.”
Shem put his arm around Poe. “Well, we miss you too. It’s not the same without you at the Shins.”
“Miss Mahrree’s was the funnest,” Poe whispered.
“You know, you can still come by to visit,” Shem suggested.
Poe shook his head. “My mother won’t let me go north of the village green. She’s afraid of Guarders.”
“Ah,” Shem nodded. “And so the Shins’ home is . . .”
“Off limits,” he murmured and blinked back tears.
Shem knew how tough future soldiers all of 10 years old are, but still he hugged him—in a manly sort of way, of course.
“I’m so sorry, Poe. Maybe . . . maybe I can do something about that. I have connections, you know.”
“My mother doesn’t like soldiers, either,” he whispered. “Sorry.”
“Have you told her you want to join up when you’re older?”
; Poe scoffed. “Are you kidding? She’d make me wash my own silk!”
Shem was about to suggest that perhaps Poe tell her anyway, because ruining his silk shirts wasn’t exactly a punishment, but Aims rolled his eyes impatiently. “Zenos, we need to be getting back.”
“I’ve always got a few minutes for Poe Hili.” Shem squatted to look Poe in his dark brown eyes. “I’ll find a way for you to visit Mrs. Shin again. There’s that meeting tonight everyone’s supposed to go to. You can try running into the Shins there. And whenever I’m patrolling in Edge of Idumea, I’ll try to come by and throw a rock at you.”
Poe smiled dubiously and nodded. “Thanks, Zenos.”
---
That night Corporal Shem Zenos did his best to stand at attention, but he knew everyone was looking at him, and it made his skin crawl. His palms sweat. His stomach clench. His tongue thicken. Every time he looked up at the packed amphitheater he wished he could be swallowed up by a cavern in the forest. If only they would quit smiling at him.
And winking.
There she was again, Shem sighed. Even after seasons of ignoring her, Sareen was still persistent. Teeria had given up long ago, and was now in Mountseen at college and doing something productive with her life. But Sareen—the girl just couldn’t take a hint. He rarely looked at her, but every week at the Shins she kept looking at him. And winking. And giggling. And now everyone was looking at him.
Just get it over with . . . just get it over with.
But Magistrate Cockalorum kept droning on and on about the remarkable skill of the soldiers five weeks ago, the dedication of the major, the unity of Edge . . .
Zenos wasn’t even standing on the platform yet—only in front with several other soldiers acting needlessly as guards that night—but he wondered if he wouldn’t crumble under the pressure before he got up there. He decided to focus instead on the magistrate’s words.
That was a bad idea.
“ . . . but all of that wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for the bravery, the presence of mind, and the determination of one soldier. For his outstanding efforts of the night of the raid, we proclaim as hero of Edge—and although he’s not from here, we’re going to claim him as our own—Corporal Shem Zenos! Come up here, son!”
The applause was far louder than Shem expected. With his head down to inspect the stairs, he plodded up them to stand next to the magistrate.
“Look at him, ladies. Can hardly see where he was injured, can you now? And he’s single and twenty-one!”
Now there was laughter along with the applause. Shem kept his head down, until he felt a large presence next to him.
Major Shin put a hand on his shoulder and placed his thumb at the base of Shem’s neck. He applied just the right amount of pressure to make Shem lift his head up to reduce the sharp pinch in his neck.
“Smile and wave, Corporal,” Shin muttered good-naturedly into his ear.
Shem smiled feebly at the audience. They applauded louder.
“I said wave, soldier!”
Shem raised his hand halfheartedly and gave a little wave.
A row of girls eagerly waved back and giggled.
“That was pitiful, Shem,” Shin hissed, but amused. “Now count to five and go sit back down. Count slowly.”
Shem kept his plastered smile on his face as he counted, until he felt the major’s hand release him. Shem nodded to the crowd, then started to bound back down the stairs, almost forgetting to shake the hand of the magistrate before doing so.
Mrs. Shin was chuckling at his embarrassment as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and she gestured for him to sit next to her. He gladly went up the aisle, picked up Jaytsy from the bench, and sat down with her on his lap. He hid behind the toddler as the applause began to die away.
Finally he could breathe again. Cockalorum started on again, but Shem wasn’t listening.
“So,” Mahrree leaned over to whisper in his ear, “did you ever imagine you’d become the claimed Hero of Edge? You realize they put off this Heroes Celebration until you returned from your leave.”
Shem shook his head miserably.
“You just love attention, don’t you?” Mahrree nudged him. “Wonder what your father will think? What your friends might think?”
“I promise you,” he whispered back, “no one where I’m from would ever have imagined this!”
She patted his back and chuckled.
He exhaled and closed his eyes.
This wasn’t exactly the best way to keep a low profile or remain anonymous.
---
Barker knew what to do, especially when bacon was involved. With his tail wagging he trotted to the back fence and sat obediently before the man in the dark jacket on the other side. Hidden by the shadows from the overhanging tree, he practically melted into the night.
“Well done, well done,” the man said softly. “Up, up, up.”
Barker put one heavy paw on top of the fence, and then the other. It was getting his back paw in the correct spot which caused him to scratch the fence repeatedly until he finally found the gap between the boards.
“Well done, well done,” the man repeated. “Up, up up.”
Barker strained and lifted and heaved, finally pulling himself over the low fence that stood between him and freedom. With a weighty splat he made it to the other side of the fence.
“Well done. End down,” the man said, but Barker was already sitting, anticipating the command.
The man chuckled softly and scratched him behind the ears. “Yes, you deserve a treat,” he said quietly, pulling out a piece of dried beef. “Jerky tonight. Hope you don’t mind.”
Barker didn’t. He didn’t even taste it as he gulped it down.
The man looked around cautiously, watching the end of the road in the east, then across the way to the west until he felt confident all was quiet. He readjusted the floppy felt hat with the wide brim that many villagers wore, even though there was no chance of rain or sunshine that he needed to block.
“Well done,” he said to the dog and turned to head east. “Alongside, alongside.”
Barker immediately walked on the man’s right side for his late night stroll, occasionally watering a bush that seemed in need of attention.
They turned to the south, and amiably the man nodded to two soldiers on patrol, walking quietly on the opposite side of the road. He even incorporated a friendly dog-wants-a-walk-again-in-the-middle-of-the-night manner in his step.
The soldiers nodded back. They didn’t recognize the exact size and shape of the animal trotting alongside the man whom they also couldn’t clearly see under the shadows of the hat. Then again, that man had walked his dog late at night before. He softly whistled a mindless tune as Barker stopped to befoul a flower garden, and he waved casually at the soldiers in a slightly embarrassed manner.
The soldiers continued on.
A moment later Barker and the man headed toward the center of the village. They turned down another alley and the man stopped. Barker stopped right next to him and sat automatically.
“Well done, well done. Now,” the man said, crouching and pointing, “Away from me,” and he pushed Barker.
The dog immediately trotted in the pointed direction, going on without accompaniment. About a minute later the quietness of the air was punctuated by the sound of a squirrel being disturbed. Its high-pitched chipping stopped Barker in his tracks. He turned around and lumbered back to the man in the black jacket, whose ability to mimic animal sounds was uncanny.
“Well done, well done,” and Barker received another chunk of jerky, which he choked on momentarily in his rush to swallow it whole.
“Don’t you dare die on me—I’ve spent so much time training you. Best give you smaller bits, I suppose. A few more, all right? Then I’ll leave you for the night. Now,” he pointed in another direction, “Away from me,” and Barker performed perfectly again.
Thirty minutes later the man walked Barker, tired from hi
s excursions, into another neighborhood and stopped in front of a large home at the Edge of Idumea Estates.
“This looks like the right one. Well done, well done. Halt. End down.”
Barker sat in the front garden of the unfamiliar home.
“All down,” the man commanded, and Barker lay down.
“Remain.”
Barker put down his head, sighed, and closed his eyes.
“Well done, well done.” The man in the black jacket scratched behind Barker’s ears, then slipped into the night.
---
“OH!”
The woman’s loud and annoyed exclamation carried throughout the Edge of Idumea Estates.
“What is THAT? A dead bear?”
In the dim light before dawn it was hard to tell, especially since she was peering out of a crack in the door.
“It’s Barker!” her son called cheerfully, pushing past her. He bounded out the front door and down into the garden.
“Poe, get away from that thing!”
“He’s really gentle,” Poe called back as Barker lumbered to his feet, his whip-like tail wagging, and his jowls drooling in pleasure.
Mrs. Hili shuddered and grimaced when the dog licked her son. “Well, get rid of it.”
“So I can visit Mrs. Shin? There’s no school today,” he reminded her.
Mrs. Hili nodded quickly. “Yes, right now—before breakfast. Return that thing to the major. And don’t mess your outfit—ew, is that drool on your shoulder? I’m sending your clothes to the major for cleaning. And stay away from the soldiers! They’re supposed to be swarming Edge today.”
“But I like the soldiers.” Poe laughed as Barker nuzzled him so powerfully the ten-year-old nearly lost his footing.
“For the life of me, I don’t know why. If ever I saw you in a blue uniform, I’d just . . . just . . . For the love of silk, get that beast off of you, Poe!”
Poe pushed Barker down and started for the road. “Come on, Barker.”
Barker only sat there.
“Barker, COME!” Poe commanded again. He shook his head, walked back to the dog, and pulled on the thick fur around his neck. “You still can’t learn any basic commands? ‘Come’ means, ‘follow me,’” he said, tugging on Barker’s neck.
The dog, feeling his stomach rumble, decided to see if the boy knew where he could find some bacon.
Chapter 15 ~ “Get To Know Your Friendly Soldiers Day?”