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

by Trish Mercer

Forty minutes later two soldiers stood ready, watching out large windows in the forward office of the tower.

  But they didn’t stand still.

  They bounced and nudged and jostled each other as they surveyed the skyline in the south and west. Their eyes darted from one new tower to another, anticipating the first signals. Captain Karna waited in the compound below them, with Neeks and Gizzada on either side him. The three had faced their horses toward the main gates to follow the racers once they left.

  Lieutenant Walickiah, in charge of ensuring a fair start and monitoring the banner changes, shook his head as he evaluated the situation before him. Shin was unpredictable, and now the relationship Walickiah saw between the major and the corporal explained a great deal as to why the Quiet Man hadn’t been talking. Walickiah had yet to get him alone, and now he suspected why: either they were losing him to the major, or he was even more duplicitous than even Walickiah. And that was saying something.

  The major and the corporal had already shed their caps, jackets, and weapons, and left them sloppily on the large desk behind them. The race was no longer a test of the new system, nor to see how quickly a soldier in full uniform could respond.

  It was personal.

  Besides, the major had reasoned out loud a few minutes ago, it would be easier for the soldiers in the stations to see them coming in their white undershirts. And Zenos could take his off to signal his surrender when he was ready to quit.

  That’s when the poking started.

  Walickiah had been standing between Shin and Zenos to make sure it was a fair start—Karna’s orders. But when the major made that comment about the corporal surrendering, Zenos leaned behind the lieutenant and poked the major hard in the ribs while muttering something that sounded like “grandpy”.

  Walickiah had frozen in shock. Even out of uniform, one does not poke one’s commanding officer. He didn’t know where that was written, but he was sure it had to be somewhere. There was no other option but to cancel the race and throw the corporal into confinement. What else could an officer do?

  Apparently poke back, for starters.

  Maybe if Walickiah hadn’t been so startled he would have reacted more quickly.

  Shin squinted severely at his corporal and lunged to poke Zenos, who was bouncing erratically. The major missed and Walickiah caught the furious finger in his ribs instead. Shin tried to utter an apology as Zenos snorted a laugh, and Walickiah was starting to say, “Oh, not a problem, sir,” when he took another jab, this time from Zenos.

  Survival instinct finally kicked in as Walickiah raised his hands and moved to the back of the office to watch from a safe distance.

  Now the two grown men were punching each other’s shoulders like thirteen-year-olds, still trying to keep their eyes on the village towers.

  Walickiah almost considered the situation amusing, if it weren’t so immature. The men acted more as brothers than as a commander and a mere enlisted man.

  As he observed the major and his baby tender start slapping each other as they tried to cover the other man’s eyes, he had to agree: this was a most interesting assignment. Very little of what really was going on in the fort was known beyond Edge.

  Yet he’d never heard of another fort where morale was so high. Every soldier was eagerly awaiting the race, stationed throughout Edge. Several unofficial bets had been placed as to the outcome, and there was even a rumor that cake would be served afterward.

  A flash of orange cloth unfurling in the distance caught Walickiah’s eye, followed immediately by a flash of blue just beyond it.

  The two men scrambled over each other to be the first down the stairs. The Unk was first and leaped down the last six steps. He stumbled as he landed awkwardly, and the major rushed past him.

  “Hey, no pushing, sir!” Zenos yelled.

  Shin laughed. “You’re just clumsy, boy!” His voice faded away as he ran out to the compound.

  Walickiah quickly stepped over to the window. By the time the men reached the gates they were running shoulder to shoulder.

  Karna looked up to wave at Walickiah, and then he, Neeks, and Gizzada kicked their horses to follow the runners.

  All alone Walickiah finally allowed himself to smile. In many ways, Major Shin almost seemed like a man worth getting to know.

  It was almost too bad Walickiah was there to destroy him.

  ---

  Perrin cut across a road littered with crunching red and yellow leaves on his sprint toward the orange banner. Shem had parted ways with him as they entered Edge, and he now raced toward the blue banner. They each knew the pattern of the colors they were to watch for. Which tower would hoist the next color—that was for them to discover.

  Perrin saw the soldier standing at the base of the tower, the one closest to his home. He was smiling as he held out the small piece of paper. “Major Shin,” the soldier yelled as Perrin approached. “Chief of enforcement needs help finding a lost child in the neighborhood. You need to go to this location for your next note!”

  Perrin slowed to grab the note and jogged as he read the location. He groaned, shoved the paper in his front pocket, leaped over a low fence and sprinted through two gardens, to the cheers of his neighbors. Then he ran up the road to a house he knew all too well.

  Mahrree stood on the front porch waving a piece of paper, Peto in her arms, and Jaytsy jumping up and down and clapping. As Perrin bounded up the stairs to snatch the note, she held it back.

  “I understand there’s a story behind this ‘lost child’? Promise to tell me?”

  “I will! Now hand it over!”

  She grinned and gave it to him. “Go, Perrin!” she called as he ran out of their yard toward the next tower in the northeast section of Edge, which now showed a red banner.

  Karna, don’t get too comfortable in that new captain’s jacket of yours, Perrin thought as he slowed his gait slightly to pace himself over the next several roads. True, he’d told only Shem not to mention anything about Peto’s wandering off, but . . . well, Brillen was shaping up to be a clever officer.

  No wonder he’d sent Gizzada to follow him instead of accompanying the major himself. Initially, Perrin had thought it an intentional insult when realize his accompaniment would be hefty Gizzada, mounted on a massive plow horse with astonishing stamina. It wasn’t the swiftest animal, but it could certainly handle ten miles at a steady trot.

  But now Perrin realized Brillen was likely trying to preserve his career. After that first stop, Perrin would have demoted him to lieutenant, right on the spot.

  By the end of the race, if this first stop was any indication, Brillen would have found himself reduced to Private Karna.

  ---

  Shem ran easily toward the middle of the Edge, a route he knew well. He was to report to the village green tower he and Perrin had just left, now flying a blue banner. Several hundred people were still milling around and a loud cheer arose as he approached. At the base of the tower waited one of the soldiers assigned to it.

  “General’s arrived, Zenos! You’re to greet him and retrieve your next note.” The soldier grinned and pointed as Zenos looked in vain for the paper that was to be in the sergeant’s hands. Shem spun quickly to see where it was, and he tried not to whimper.

  The Zenos banner girls beamed at him.

  Sareen was wearing a borrowed soldier’s cap and waved a small piece of paper, her shoulders and areas below still exposed to the cool air. Shem rushed over to Sareen, but she thrust the note behind her. She grabbed Shem’s undershirt with her free hand, pulled him close, and planted a big, wet kiss on his mouth.

  Probably something she learned from Barker, was the only thing Shem could clearly think at that moment.

  But he’d also learned a few things—unofficially—about being a soldier in the past year and a season. The first was not to be surprised by anything. Even if you are surprised, do your best to pretend you’re not. The second was to never forget your main objective. The th
ird was to never close your eyes, if you can help it, no matter what’s thrown at you.

  Corporal Zenos remembered it all.

  His reach was longer than Sareen’s, and faster than she could finish her kiss he snatched the note out of her hand, pulled out of her grip, and took off toward a yellow banner he saw at a distant tower. He ignored the other girls’ cries of, “Not fair!” and “I didn’t get a turn!” as he ran west.

  Grandpy Neeks, following him on horseback, laughed. “Great race, eh Corporal?” he called. “I think the captain’s trying to throw the race for the major. At least you’ll have had a good time losing.”

  Shem didn’t respond, but began to plan revenge on Karna. No wonder he chose not to follow him.

  ---

  When Perrin eventually reached the tower station south of the village, he wondered again why he’d thought the distance of a quarter of a mile past Edge seemed like a good idea. He had now run the full length of Edge, from the north to the south, with zig-zagging stops in between. But that last quarter mile was the worst. He was panting harder than he anticipated and gratefully took the jug of water offered to him by one of his dozen soldiers. Another handed him the note which he shoved into his pocket with the others.

  “Private, where’s the next banner?” he asked as he bent over, breathing heavily.

  “Um, sir, it’s um, well—”

  “Well what?”

  “There are three, sir. All yellow.”

  Major Shin shook his head. “Three? He’s out to kill me, isn’t he? Karna’s planning a takeover, I know it. He’s waiting for me to drop.” He took another quick drink of water and poured some of it over his head.

  “Well, sir, fires do have a way of spreading . . .”

  Gizzada leaned over to him from his horse. “I believe you were the one who told him to make it a real challenge, sir. Karna was only following your orders. But don’t worry. I see three more towers displaying red. Zenos is chasing a Guarder invasion!”

  “I meant a challenge for Zenos,” Shin muttered. The major stood back up, waved once at his men, and started a fast jog back to Edge, pushed along by the cheers of his soldiers.

  ---

  Shem knew his route would take him to the edge of the forest. A private that had helped measure the course accidentally revealed that nugget of information, for which Shem was most grateful. Guarder invasions begin at the forest, after all. He saw the distant tree he was to tag, as well as the ten soldiers that stood waiting there to encourage him on. He’d have to be careful. He’d get only one chance.

  As he sprinted across the buffer field to the soldiers, he began to limp. His face contorted into a grimace as he continued on to the forest.

  “Run it out, Zenos! Shake off the cramp. You’ve still got miles to go!” another corporal shouted to him.

  Zenos nodded as he reached the soldiers. Then, just as he was to tag the tree, something caught his foot and he went down, hard.

  “Zenos!” Neeks cried from atop his mount. “You all right, son?”

  Zenos got up, panting. “Only wounded my pride, Grandpy. Give me my note!” he said as he slapped the tree.

  The soldiers applauded, gave him his verifying note, and Zenos turned to run back to Edge with the soldiers following and shouting support.

  Several minutes later, two men in green and brown mottled clothing crept up to the edge of the forest. They were confident no one else had seen the small rock that Zenos threw into the shrubs as he tripped and fell. And they were also confident the rock was intended for them. They lay on the ground inspecting the foliage and patting the dried leaves that covered the forest’s floor.

  After almost ten minutes of searching, one of the men discovered the rock. They crept to the seclusion of a large boulder, unwrapped the small paper tied around the rock, and read the small handwriting.

  One out. F.S.

  “He’s certainly become concise in his messages,” one man observed.

  The other man nodded. “But it would’ve been helpful to include a time. We best get to the fresh spring.”

  ---

  Zenos paused when he arrived at the tower waving the second red banner so he could shake out a cramp in his leg. This one was painfully real. One of the soldiers gave him a flask of water and a note with a location.

  Shem groaned. “I just ran past that family’s house! I think Karna’s made my route longer than the major’s.”

  The soldier smiled. “Nope, they’re the same. The captain had two different groups measure the distances to be sure. You each have ten miles.”

  Zenos bent over to massage his calf. “I’ve gone east to west to east again.”

  “But the major was sent all the way to the far south tower,” Neeks pointed out. “He’s already hit his second yellow banner coming back north. It just went down.”

  “No!” Zenos moaned, looked at the note again, ignored his cramp and took off in a sprint back in the direction he came.

  ---

  Major Shin reached the last ‘tower on fire’ to the whoops and cheers of dozens of villagers who were waiting, with Gizzada still riding behind him. The sergeant’s horse was looking as exhausted as Perrin. Despite the cool temperatures of Harvest Season, the major was sweating as if it was the middle of Weeding. A severe pain in his side refused to let him stand up straight. His lungs burned so badly that he couldn’t imagine going another step.

  He’d been hoping someone would have the news that Zenos had quit and was being carted away by the surgeon. Then Perrin could drop to the ground in honor and not move again for two days.

  But there was no message about Zenos.

  He grabbed the note offered by a sergeant and called up to the tower. “Where’s the white finish banner? Can’t see it from here,” he panted. “View’s obscured.”

  One of the soldiers, cringing, yelled down to him. “Sir, there’s not a white banner, but there is a pink striped one. At the village green.”

  The major slapped his forehead and forgot all about his pain.

  “KARNA!” he roared and took off in a lumbering jog to the center of Edge.

  ---

  At the forward office at the fort, Lieutenant Walickiah watched the banners go up and down. He timed how long the intervals were between each, signaling that the runner had reached his destination. He watched as the last of the yellow and red banners came down, and saw the final one rise up in the middle of the village. He squinted and looked at it again. Then he took the spyglass to verify . . .

  Yes. It was pink stripes.

  This was the most unusual fort.

  He picked up the banner code sheet the major had left, but didn’t see anything coded for pink. Then Walickiah noticed a different handwriting at the bottom of the page. He remembered that as the major and corporal were taking off their uniforms, Captain Karna had added something to the paper. He waved it to the major, asking if he wanted to review it, but the major was too preoccupied in insulting the corporal. The captain only grinned, nodded at Walickiah, and went down the stairs to take his position.

  Walickiah glanced around before allowing himself to respond to the last code.

  “Pink stripes: mother-in-law sighted, bringing cake.”

  He chuckled.

  Too bad she was on his list. Walickiah loved cake.

  ---

  Corporal Zenos, having ‘saved’ three citizens in different areas from Guarder attacks, was now sprinting toward the middle of Edge and smirking at the pink striped banner. The major was going to love that, he was sure. Shem almost forgave Karna for his first kissing stop.

  The crowd at the village green was even larger than when he and the major had left it a couple of hours ago. Shem was still weaving through the nearly abandoned marketplace when he was spotted by people on the perimeter of the green. A huge cheer erupted. Shem would’ve grinned, but he didn’t want to risk unnecessarily expending any energy. He had a major to beat.

  He rounded the last corner, barel
y hearing the hooves of Neeks’s horse behind him because of the shouts of the villagers. They parted for him to have a straight shot to the tower in the middle of the green. Shem saw a blurry group of blue uniforms in front of him, and a few sitting on horseback. His lungs burned, his leg seized, but nothing could stop him.

  The noise was deafening as Zenos ran up to the tower and slapped it happily. “YES!” he cried to the roar of the crowd.

  Captain Karna, atop his horse, was laughing. He clucked his mount to take a few steps so Zenos could see what the animal was concealing.

  “NO!” he cried again, this time in anguish. He slumped against the tower and closed his eyes in frustration, then opened them again and stared in disbelief.

  Major Shin laughed.

  Or at least he tried to.

  It caught in his throat since he was leaning over and wheezing. He waved feebly at Shem and winked.

  Panting, Zenos looked up to Karna. “By how much?”

  Karna shook his head. “Maybe just fifteen seconds. All that cheering wasn’t just for you, Corporal!”

  Shem dropped his head into his hands.

  Karna waved to the villagers closing in on the racers. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give them some time to catch their breath before you overwhelm them with congratulations and sympathy. Please make your way over to tables by the amphitheater doors, and I assure you the major and the corporal will join us shortly.”

  The captain led away the crowd while several soldiers stood guard in front of Shin and Zenos and urged well-wishers to follow.

  Gizzada and Neeks, still chuckling, set their horses to corral errant Edgers.

  Shem still held his head, amazed. If he hadn’t ‘tripped’ near the forest and spent that time getting back up, he would’ve won the race. He smiled briefly to realize he really was the strongest soldier.

  But there were far more important things in the world than winning a competition.

  “So close. So close,” he moaned as he slid down the tower to the ground and flopped his head wearily against the lattice work. “It’s the captain’s fault! If Sareen hadn’t kissed me—I couldn’t think clearly for at least a minute after that.”

  That made the major stand back up. He put his hands on his waist and hobbled over. “So I tell you no cookies, and instead you start kissing girls? At least you’re growing up.” With a weak chuckle, Shin slumped on the ground next to Zenos.

  “How’d you do it, Major? How’d you beat me?”

  “Shem,” he whispered, and Shem noticed that the major—Perrin—was calling him by his first name more often, “it nearly killed me. May have to hitch me up to Gizzada’s horse and have it drag me home. I was about to give up at the second to last tower. But then I found out about that pink atrocity and, well . . . that was incredible motivation to get here and GET IT DOWN!”

  Shem laughed weakly with him. Neither of them noticed the figure walking up to them whom the soldiers didn’t stop.

  “I have a feeling neither of you are going anywhere soon. Should I bring you pillows and blankets and let you sleep here for the night?”

  They wearily looked up and Mahrree grinned back at them.

  “Quite an exciting finish!”

  Perrin smiled. “So who were you cheering for at the end?”

  “For you, of course!” But she winked exaggeratedly at Shem who winked back. “Did you like the last banner?”

  Perrin covered his face with his hands. “What was he thinking?”

  “He was thinking you’d need an extra nudge at the end. Obviously it worked. Now, come, both of you. If you don’t move, you’ll stiffen up. People want to see you, and my mother’s been baking for two straight days. She’s brought over enough cake for the entire village. That’s where everyone left to.” She cocked her head toward the amphitheater.

  “Cake?” The major’s hands came off his face. “Again she made cake? For the initial test of a new army protocol? Refreshments!”

  Shem chortled.

  Perrin elbowed him.

  Mahrree rolled her eyes and sat down on the dried grasses in front of the men. “This was hardly a protocol. This was a race of egos, and you both know it. We’ll have to make it an annual event. You brought out more people than Catapult Day used to, and no one gets dirty or smelly but you two. It’s a brilliant way to get the village to rally around the army. Now, you are expected to come get cake and win over those last hearts and minds. Perrin, don’t roll your eyes at me. My mother is holding the children hostage in their wagon until you come over. And when you see the tablecloths she made, not ONE word of comment about them. Understand?”

  “Oh Mahrree, I already feel weak and nauseated,” Perrin moaned. “Tablecloths? Really?”

  Well,” his wife smiled, “she had some leftover cloth from tapering the banners, so . . .” Mahrree’s eyebrows rose in suggestion.

  “Let me guess—the pink striped is prominently in the middle?”

  “You are smart. Now I see how you got to be the major.”

  Shem burst out laughing, but rolled away fast enough that the major’s elbow caught the wood of the tower instead of his corporal.

  Cringing in pain, Perrin allowed his wife to help him to his feet. Mahrree turned to offer a hand to help Shem up, then she put her arms around both of their waists and pretended her small frame could support both of their large ones as they limped along.

  As the three of them approached the crowd, the people parted and cheered. Even Magistrate Cockalorum and Chief Curglaff were grinning and applauding, and Shem noticed that neither of them seemed to regard him as a ‘convenient spy.’

  Winning hearts and minds. Yes, Shem knew the lessons too, and could probably teach a few things to the major.

  Karna, now standing next to Mrs. Peto behind a table, was the only one not clapping. Instead he held up a piece of cake, took a big bite, and nodded at the racers.

  The major pointed an accusatory finger at him.

  The corporal glared at him.

  Karna only shrugged innocently.

  As Mahrree led them to the tables, Perrin groaned. The tablecloths were miniature banners stitched together to make one large, colorful mess of cloth. Over the head of his wife he looked at Shem. Shem returned the same look of, For crying out loud. Then they both smirked painfully.

  But they kept their promise to Mahrree, and neither one of them said a word.

  ---

  It was a rare moment for Mahrree. No children were clinging to her—they were being tended to by some of her former students. Her mother had refused to let her help serve the cake—Hycymum wanted all the praise for herself. So Mahrree took advantage of the quiet moment, stepped back to lean against a tree, and watched “her boys” from a non-meddling distance.

  The crowd loved—completely and absolutely loved—Edge’s Strongest Soldiers. They sat on chairs in the middle of the brown grasses so that the hundreds of well-wishers could dote on them.

  Captain Karna had really captured the spirit of the day, Mahrree decided. Not only had he sent a wagon and a couple of soldiers to help her mother bring all of the cake to the green, but he’d also set up the winner’s circle. Perrin was perched on a large chair covered in thick red cloths. Up close you could tell they were typical drying cloths he could use to wipe himself, but from a distance they looked suspiciously like the red cloth the kings reportedly had covering their throne.

  The loser’s chair, however, was a tiny thing—looked like a child’s stool, actually—with one dingy gray rag on it. When Shem sat down on it, as ordered by Karna, the contrast to Perrin’s “throne” was absurd. Shem’s head was far lower than Perrin’s, and he had to balance to keep from toppling over. Edgers had been laughing steadily at the scene for ten minutes now. Shem, to his great credit, took it all in stride.

  Mahrree just grinned as she watched the flow of people swarm Perrin and Shem. If Edgers had been afraid of Major Shin, they didn’t seem to be now. In fact . . .


  Mahrree squinted to focus on individual faces.

  In fact, many of the women seemed quite taken by him. Mahrree scrunched up her lips before deciding she didn’t have to be jealous. It hadn’t occurred to her before that the majority of women in Edge didn’t have such a specimen of manhood at home, so naturally they were admiring hers.

  Perhaps it was because Perrin’s jacket was at the fort, and the thin sleeveless undershirt he wore clung to him so well. He was drenched—likely from sweat and from pouring water over his head at some point—which only made the white cotton hug his form more distinctly. Mahrree chuckled to realize that even his damp round shoulders seem to catch the light and glisten in the sun. His solid chest and stomach stretched the shirt to its limits, and the muscles of his arms, normally hidden by his jacket, bulged with extraordinary definition.

  The women noticed.

  Their eyes traveled all over him as they waited for their chance to speak to him. Maybe Perrin didn’t know what it meant when a woman chewed on her lower lip, took extra deep breaths, licked her lips, or dragged her fingers over her arms or throat . . .

  Oh, yes he did, she smiled to herself.

  But—and she loved him all the more for it—he looked only into the eyes of those who fawned over him.

  Mahrree noticed something else, too. Those who approached her husband did so still a bit hesitantly, and others didn’t even try—most notably the husbands of the admiring women. Instead, those men clustered nearby with uncertain scowls on their faces as they waited for their distracted wives. Everyone knew Major Shin had killed over a dozen men, and now he was officially The Strongest Soldier. While certainly attractive, he was also still intimidating.

  Perrin had a presence, a way of carrying himself, that maybe was inherited from his father and grandfather, or instilled into him by his upbringing—but whatever it was, his presence commanded respect, awe, and a bit of fear.

  None of these people knew what Mahrree did, that when he came home he rolled on the floor with his children and giggled like they did, kissing and tickling them, and sometimes snuggling with them until they collapsed into a deep sleep. No one else knew that he could be so tender and gentle and sweet, even. That was her secret.

  They just felt his presence, and it was immense.

  But, interestingly, Mahrree noticed as her gaze shifted to the younger soldier, Shem Zenos also had a presence.

  People were drawn to him, as she and Perrin had been. And now that he was “one of their own,” Edgers also wanted a few minutes with the corporal. He grinned enormously at each new friend, his sky-blue eyes shining happily to receive so much consolation, and the villagers were thrilled to pour it on him. He was almost more charismatic than Perrin, Mahrree thought. While Perrin was a bit threatening, Shem was so utterly approachable. Oddly she was struck momentarily with an amusing idea—Shem on the “throne” with Perrin as his guard dog.

  But soon Mahrree noticed that women—of a wide variety of ages—were also lined up to speak with Shem, and their eyes were taking in his build. For the first time she realized that his body shape was rather similar to Perrin’s. Same full round shoulders and arms—also glistening, for the benefit of the women who couldn’t get a clear view of Perrin—broad chest, and defined stomach muscles. Perhaps they were alike because Perrin put his soldiers through his training regimen.

  Yet, Mahrree considered, no soldiers were quite as massive as Perrin or Shem. Karna was certainly a bundle of muscle, she noted as the captain worked his way through the crowd to them, but he was not nearly as bulky.

  Karna asked loudly if anyone in the crowd had seen the expression on Major Shin’s face when he first learned about the pink banner.

  A man standing nearby raised his hand, then with great drama acted out Perrin’s look of shock and fury, followed by a slap to his forehead.

  The crowd, several hundred, exploded in laughter, and even Perrin had to join in.

  Mahrree grinned and noticed something more. Shem and Perrin even laughed alike. It was hard to pick out their voices in the mass, but their faces contorted in the same ways, and they moved at the same rhythm.

  Perhaps it was because they were becoming friends, Mahrree decided. She’d seen that before, close friends mirroring each other’s laugh.

  But maybe, maybe it was because they shared a common ancestor, one who passed down his massive frame and deep belly laugh that sounded like cheerful bells clanging.

  If only Shem had black hair and eyes like Perrin, instead of light brown hair like hers and those sparkling blue eyes, she would’ve been bold enough to declare they must have been distantly related.

  Mahrree bit her lip in dreadful anticipation as she saw Sareen weave her way through to Shem. The poor girl had been trying so hard to get him to notice her, but he didn’t. He didn’t notice anyone but the Shin family.

  Shem was drying himself off with the dingy rag Karna had left as Sareen reached him. He glanced at her, then looked at Perrin with what seemed like pleading in his eyes.

  Perrin grinned, took one of the thick red cloths from off his chair, and tossed it to his subordinate.

  Shem’s expression told him that wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for, although Mahrree wasn’t sure what he wanted.

  Sareen, beaming and bouncing, with her tunic still embarrassingly low, kneeled in front of Shem in obeisance.

  Mahrree rolled her eyes. The girl was hopeless.

  Shem made quite a business of rubbing his short hair with the red cloth, as if not realizing Sareen was there. Perrin’s loud throat clearing finally made him stop. He set the wide cloth around his shoulders, and Mahrree wondered if he was trying to cover parts of his muscular anatomy to dissuade the eyes of his admirers, some of whom regarded him with less-than-pure appreciation.

  Then he had no choice but to look down at Sareen.

  Mahrree considered the angle and winced in empathy for Shem. Sareen had made sure she planted herself right where she could make the most of her exposed—

  “Oh honestly, Sareen!” Mahrree murmured in exasperation. “Where’s your cloak?”

  Despite the chill in the air, Sareen seemed determined to show Shem exactly what she had to offer. Not surprisingly, several soldiers had converged around Shem to share in the view.

  “Oh Sareen, this is just becoming sad,” Mahrree muttered, wishing someone would point out to the girl—maybe Sareen’s mother, who didn’t seem to be around—that her displaying behavior was most inappropriate. Mahrree was about to march over there herself when . . .

  Shem was remarkable, Mahrree realized. While he appeared so young, he possessed a maturity and strength far beyond his age. His gaze had never wavered from Sareen’s face, Mahrree noted, even though only inches below it was a sight to make any infant thirsty and any man forget how to blink. It seemed, from Mahrree’s angle, that he wasn’t even looking at her eyes, but likely her forehead. And while Sareen displayed nearly all her full and heaving wares before him, he wasn’t shopping.

  Instead he was suddenly taken with a fit of coughing that sounded to Mahrree a bit contrived, but most convenient. He even fell off his little chair as he doubled over to control his convulsing.

  A moment later someone rushed a flask of water to him, which he readily accepted.

  Another moment later the coughing fit ceased, Shem stood up, and immediately began a conversation with his rescuer, Mrs. Reed, who had also brought him a box of her cookies.

  Sareen, forgotten and still kneeling in front of the wobbly chair, grumpily stood up and stormed away.

  Two dozen soldiers followed closely after her. They were shopping, and were not interested in her forehead.

  “Well done, Shem Zenos,” Mahrree smiled in approval.

  To her surprise, Shem looked deliberately in her direction, as if he heard her. But she knew the distance was too great. He nodded once at her before beginning a conversation with another older, safer villager.

  Sareen, now with h
er own little audience, spoke loudly about something silly, Mahrree was sure, likely hoping Shem would notice and become jealous. For the moment, Sareen was happy for the attention that, someday, she’d realize she didn’t really want.

  Mahrree understood Sareen, she hated to admit to herself. She’d come to a difficult realization some time ago: if there had never been a Perrin Shin, and had the age gap been a bit smaller, she too would have hoped for the attention of Shem Zenos. Maybe it was his presence, and his sweetness, and his boyish handsomeness, and his impressive build—

  But for Mahrree, there was a Perrin Shin, and he’d absolutely spoiled her for any other man, thank the Creator. While she saw the appeal of Shem—gentle and even adorable—she found more alluring the raw power of Perrin, the massive guard dog. She realized that occasionally she may find other men attractive, but she’d always remember that her own husband was far superior.

  Mahrree chuckled softly as her husband teasingly commanded Corporal Zenos to sit back down. His head was now higher than Perrin’s, and that wasn’t appropriate, he announced loudly.

  Shem crouched obligingly, to the laughter of the villagers, but Perrin shook his head slowly, pointed to the little chair, and raised a menacing eyebrow.

  More laughter.

  Shem slunk dejectedly to the demeaning seat, sat down with a loud sigh of resignation, and blinked sadly at the cluster of little boys—Poe Hili among them—that now stood in front of him as his new adoring fan club.

  The crowd cheered loudly, and Perrin threw another red cloth at Shem, covering his head completely.

  Mahrree laughed out loud, caught her husband’s eye, and winked.

  He winked back and raised his eyebrows briefly in suggestion. He had an idea for an argument that night.

  She shook her head and chuckled.

  Oh, those women might ogle him with eyes too full of their own desire—and it was a good thing he hadn’t run in only his shorts, Mahrree decided, because seeing his calves and thighs would have sent some of those women into such fits of swooning that their husbands would have had no choice but to preserve their honor by challenging the major, which would have sent him into fits of laughter—but that afternoon Major Perrin Shin would be going home with her.

  And tonight, she’d help him undress, probably help him bathe, get that magnificent man into bed . . . and then listen to him whimper and complain about his aching muscles all night long.

  Chapter 19 ~ “A little over-excited about towers and flags, are we?”