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

by Trish Mercer

It was late at night when the man in the black jacket strode through the dark forest, past the steaming vents, around a sulfurous cavern, out of the reach of a spray of hot water, and over a swell of land that seemed to swell a little more each year. He walked alone and knew exactly where he was going. He picked up his pace once he was past the more hazardous terrain and started to jog eastward, weaving in and out of thickets and through meadows.

  He shouldn’t have to be here, he thought bitterly. Something had gone very wrong for him to be taking such a risk again. The stories he had to come up with . . .

  There was too much moons’ light. That was one of the problems. And the forest was too quiet. Usually it was rumbling and gurgling louder, but the world went in cycles like the seasons, and it was a bad time for the forest to be napping. A little bit of ground moaning as cover would’ve been most welcome right now.

  That’s when he saw him, where he shouldn’t be, cowering like a distracted porcupine.

  “Ah, no,” the man in the black jacket whispered, and crept over to the large rocks where the man in a black cloak was clinging to the shadows and looking in the wrong direction.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” the man in the black jacket whispered in his ear.

  There are many rules of the forest, and the most important is always the one neglected at the moment. And at that moment, the rule of “Never startle a preoccupied porcupine” shot up to the top of the list.

  The porcupine-in-a-cloak nearly jumped out of it in surprise, swung blindly behind him, and smacked the face of the man in the black jacket. Then he took off running directionless, probably spooked because the boulder he’d been hiding behind developed a mouth and a sudden need to communicate its opinion.

  But the smack wasn’t hard enough to faze the black jacket man. “No!” he whispered urgently, and was immediately in pursuit. “Go left! Go left!” he hissed, but the man in the cloak veered right instead.

  The second rule of the forest always seems to be, whenever someone’s being chased, he’ll always run toward the worst possible obstacle.

  The porcupine man, for someone who had never been in the forest before, was following the rules perfectly.

  “Naturally—the wrong way,” the jacketed man grumbled as he sprinted to catch up to him. “What more can go wrong tonight?”

  The cloaked porcupine man realized, in his maddened dash, that the trees and shrubs he was dodging abruptly ended. Fortunately he still had enough wits about to recognize he likely should as well. He skidded to a stop right before the deep crevice in front of him, but his momentum still swayed his body toward the gap.

  The man in the jacket reached him just in time to yank him back, throwing him into the relative safety of a prickly bush.

  “That was close! So what do you think you’re do—”

  The cloaked porcupine didn’t even thank his rescuer, but was off again in a scrambling dash. The cloth of his covering snagged on the thorny bushes and tripped him up, but he kept running without a plan or a clue.

  The jacketed man was right behind him. “You have no idea where you’re going, do you?” he tried to yell in a hush. “Think about it—this is NOT a great place to run blindly in, now is it?!” and he leaped on top of him, knocking him to the ground in front of several boulders. “Now if you’ll just—”

  “No! Get off me!”

  “I can’t do that,” the jacketed man told him, pushing a knee into his back and twisting one of his arms behind him. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  “Only saving you the bother of doing it!” his caught porcupine gasped, trying to free his arm. “That’s all you do out here, isn’t it?”

  “Not me, my friend. That’s not what I do.” The man in the jacket—larger and stronger—twisted the cloak around the porcupine to avoid getting smacked again. With a grunt, he flipped him over onto his back.

  The porcupine man, rendered helpless on the dirt, noticed the man’s open jacket and the silver buttons concealed on the inside. He glanced down at his captor’s trousers, then up at his face dimly lit by the moons.

  “Wait a minute,” his voice thick with anger, “You . . . YOU! How could you?!” While his arms were bound, his legs weren’t. He sharply raised his knee to knock his captor off of him.

  “Be quiet!” the man in the black jacket hissed as he tumbled off, but it was too late.

  His hostage had already wriggled free and was on his knees, his hands out ready to strangle him.

  “I told you to stop him, not kill him, Zenos!”

  Shem was prepared. He quickly got to his feet, and in a flash Dormin, far less practiced, found his arm twisted and held behind his back again. Then he felt the cold steel of a long knife held against his throat, the flat of the blade pressed on his flesh.

  “Dormin, I’m so sorry. It was me that killed Sonoforen, but there was no other choice. He was standing in front of the Shins’ door, his long knife out, and his hand on the door handle. I had only seconds to act. I didn’t want to do it, I promise you. I’ve never taken a life before, and that night I took two.”

  Dormin panted anxiously as Shem Zenos held him immobile. “Are you taking a third tonight, then?”

  “I’m praying not to, but then again, the night’s only begun.”

  “Why are you out here?”

  “I was about to ask you that,” Shem said. “You’re supposed to be long gone! This forest is no place for you, last son of King Oren.”

  “There’ve been complications.” Dormin gasped and swallowed against the cold blade on his throat. “Let me go, will you?”

  “Only after you promise you’re not going to avenge your brother’s death.”

  Dormin sighed, almost in embarrassment. “I’m not even armed, Zenos.”

  “That’s right, he’s not!” a woman’s voice snapped. She bounded out of a clump of trees, shaking her head in dismay. Her long blonde and gray ponytail whipped angrily but she moved as silently as the moons. “Dormin, how in the world did you get here?”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Yung,” he whispered. “I got disoriented.”

  “Yes, obviously!” she whispered back. “You’re almost as aimless as my husband. We’ll have to find him next. Zenos, let go of him already!”

  Shem shrugged apologetically, sheathed his knife and released Dormin’s arm. Dormin scampered away from him and glowered.

  “What you boys get up to in the forests here, I just don’t know,” Mrs. Yung fumed. “This entire night is going completely wrong!”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Yung,” Shem said, withering under her glare which didn’t even need full light to be fully effective. “We just, uh . . . needed to talk things through.”

  Dormin folded his arms.

  “Well, I hope it’s resolved because we have far greater problems right now! Zenos, the upper northeastern route along the ridge has been compromised. We had to stop at the ravine because of an emergency, but we’re ready to move again. But we don’t know where the last four are. We split up to confuse them, and confused Dormin instead, I see.” All she had to do was put her hands on her hips and face him.

  Now it was Dormin’s turn to shrug contritely, and Shem’s shoulders sagged in additional remorse, even though he hadn’t been the cause of any of those problems.

  Mrs. Yung was used to that. Rector’s wives were supposed to be their husbands’ equals in acting as the Creator’s hands to provide heartfelt concern and loving guidance.

  But Mrs. Yung had an additional trait which manifested itself in opportune moments. With a determinedly pointed finger, a quick tongue, and a sharp kick to one’s conscious, no one could reduce a full-grown man to shamed penitence quicker than Mrs. Yung. When her ire was up, even innocent people who had never met her before felt the need to apologize repeatedly. Her ability to reduce any ego into scrambled egg with simply a well-honed glare was why she was chosen to keep order in the forests. Her husband tagged along at this point, after his work was done, just for the entertainment
.

  Satisfied that the boys were no longer squabbling, she nodded once at their apologies. “Now, there’s yet another wrinkle tonight, and Shem, you have to fix that one as well.”

  Shem briefly rolled his eyes. “Oh, what is it now?”

  “A friend of yours has found herself on the wrong side of the trees. Now, I suggest you find her lost dog, then—”

  “Wait a minute,” Shem grabbed Mrs. Yung’s arm. “Mahrree?!”

  “What’s a marr-ee?” Dormin asked.

  “A most determined, naïve, and dangerous woman, that’s what!” Mrs. Yung declared. “She wanted to know the truth, or so she claims, and I accidentally grabbed her thinking she was you, Dormin!”

  “Where’s she now?” Shem asked, alarmed.

  “Likely at the edge of the forest, sobbing because I intimidated her for her own good. She and her family need to stay out of here. It’s not their time yet. Hifadhi’s even said so.”

  Still Zenos looked down in the direction Mrs. Yung had come running from.

  She grabbed his jaw and turned his face abruptly to look at her. “Shem, focus here! First priority is to find and misdirect the last four. Then you can see about your friend. And Shem,” her glare turned so severe that only a man as strong as Shem could have withstood it, and even then his knees began to buckle, “since when do you call an older married woman by her first name?”

  Zenos swallowed. “Didn’t want to reveal her identity in front of Dormin. The less he knows, the better.”

  “Yes, of course,” Mrs. Yung said slowly, not at all convinced by his explanation as she released his face. But fortunately for the young corporal there were more important matters at hand and no time for a lecture. “I’ve secured Dormin, so you get out there and do your duty tonight, whatever that means. Understand?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Yung,” Zenos said obediently. No one would dare disobey that tone of voice. “You just get him out of here!”

  “That’s always been the plan, Shem, but this past week—it’s been unlike anything we’ve ever experienced. How I’m going to explain any of this to my brother Hew, I—” She stopped short and pointed to a clearing beyond them.

  Four figures in black were jogging quietly toward their general direction, weaving through the underbrush and dodging pine trees.

  Without another word, Mrs. Yung jabbed Shem. He nodded, the long knife still in his hands, and headed straight toward them, noiseless hurtling shrubs in his way. Mrs. Yung grabbed Dormin’s arm and pulled him back toward the boulders.

  “What’s he doing?” Dormin whispered.

  “Saving your life, Dormin. When I say three, head toward the stand of pines. One . . . three!”

  Dormin followed her up to the trees several paces away. He slipped into the middle of them, learning earlier that night that complaining about their poking needles wouldn’t earn him any sympathy since Mrs. Yung was already quite scratched up herself.

  “Hold still and you’ll become the shadows,” Mrs. Yung breathed. “That’s the best way to see what’s happening.”

  Dormin nodded, but felt a sharp jab from Mrs. Yung. “I said hold still. Talk in breaths.”

  “Sorry,” he breathed. He kept his shoulders from shrugging another apology, but his eyes widened with dismay that the gentle, kind woman who had been acting as his mother for more than a year had become as pointed and threatening as the blade she wore concealed under her cloak. With growing dread, he fretted that maybe that his great grandmother, the originator of the killing squads, was distantly related to Mrs. Yung. His first night in the trees was definitely different than what he was used to.

  Dormin squinted between the boughs to see where Zenos had jogged off to. A moment later he appeared in the moons’ light directly in front of the four men. They stopped in surprise, as if unsure that the man was really in front of them.

  “Who are you?” one of the men asked, not concerned about keeping his voice low.

  Zenos answered them nothing, but stood motionless.

  “Wait a minute,” one of the four said slowly. He took a few steps closer. “Look at his trousers. Hey, I know who you are! What are you do—”

  That’s all he got out.

  Shem lunged unexpectedly, thrusting his knife into the man’s heart. His three companions immediately drew their jagged daggers, but the man in the black jacket took off running.

  Dormin, in the safety of the shadow of the trees, gasped.

  Mrs. Yung covered his mouth with her hand. “Hush, Dormin. We’re safe now,” she said in the familiar gentle tone Dormin had known for the past year. “That was the last four we were trying to flush out. The other three will likely survive. We save people, Dormin. All we do is to save lives.”

  She took her hand off his mouth and exhaled deeply as if to rid herself of her previously sharp demeanor. When she spoke again, she was once again an ideal rector’s wife.

  “Shem will wrestle with his conscience as mightily as he did the night he killed your brother. But you, and the others, are now safe. My husband, however, isn’t. The poor man gets lost when he can’t see the mountains. Come on.” She tugged on his arm.

  Dormin nodded, but took one more glance back at the still body with the long knife protruding out of his heart. Maybe it happened that quickly for Sonoforen, so fast that he didn’t even know what hit him before the ground did. That’s the way he’d want to go, Dormin thought—suddenly, like their father. He remembered telling his brother that he loved him, and how ridiculously that went over. But the Yungs told him someday he would be grateful he did. And he was.

  Dormin nodded once to the body. “I’m sorry, Sonoforen. Good-bye.”

  Then he dashed through a clearing behind Mrs. Yung and into a stand of scrubby oaks.

  ---

  As Shem sprinted, he glanced behind him and saw the three men in close pursuit, but none of them could catch the dark figure that ran with greater speed and agility than a deer. Through trees, through meadows, through a river, and even through a shallow patch of steaming water they chased him, heading west.

  If only the Strongest Soldier Race could have been run in here at night, Shem thought wistfully.

  Sometimes he slowed his gait, only enough for the men behind him to think they could finally catch him, but then he pulled out ahead, tantalizingly out of their reach. He headed down a ravine, stumbled, and struggled to recover his footing.

  His pursuers took advantage of his trip and rushed toward him. Just as the three men were to converge upon him, they were inexplicably stopped by nets and ropes, wrapping around their feet. Shem had stumbled there, too, but knew how to step out again. As the three men fought and flailed, they became more entangled, as if the ropes hidden by leaves and branches tightened with their every move. That’s because they did.

  Shem, however, stood up, nonchalantly brushed off the black lining of his army jacket, and watched passively as several trees and bushes tightened the binds on the three men.

  It was a trap, and one of their best.

  As the three men fought against half a dozen camouflaged captors, two more men in green and brown mottled clothing emerged. Those whose skin wasn’t naturally hued brown or red had worked mud into their flesh, but it had long since dried and was flaking off. One man went to assist tying up the prisoners and gagging them into silence, while the second one, a hulking figure and already browned by the foresight of Nature, made his way over to Shem.

  “This should be the last of them,” he said appreciatively. “Excellent work. I thought there were four, though.”

  “There were,” Shem whispered.

  The man in green exhaled in understanding. “The long knife?”

  Shem nodded once.

  “Where’s it now?”

  “Still in his heart,” the corporal said flatly. “If I removed it, it would’ve made a mess.”

  “It had to be done. You know that.”

  “Never going to own another long knife again,” Shem whisper
ed in despair. “I’m too deadly with them.”

  “You killed a guilty man in order to save fourteen lives tonight,” the man in green and brown assured him. “And these three others will never reveal anything either. The way is safe again, because of you.”

  “Why wasn’t it before?” Shem snapped bitterly, and began to tremble.

  “Bad timing along with a few unexpected complications,” his companion explained. “It was the noise that attracted their attention. There were far more than we expected, and they wandered this far east because—Look,” he said, growing annoyed with having to justify the situation, “you know this is part of why you’re here. Your training, your position, your access . . . you also know we wouldn’t call on you unless it were a real emergency. True, we need you to keep quiet, but every now and then you still need to—”

  “I know, I know,” Shem sighed wretchedly. “Fourteen, you said?”

  “Yes, now.”

  Shem nodded once, knowing he had to be satisfied with that response. “So where is he?” he asked, looking around at the dark pines and leafless trees. “I need to get him back now that the last are secured.”

  The man shrugged and looked behind him. “I’m not sure, but he’ll be completely exhausted. We had no idea we’d be distracting the entire army, too, or we would have told you to borrow those three brown cows that never moo. They crash through the underbrush just as effectively, and we could’ve split them up.”

  “But once the cattle fence is completed, we won’t be able to use those, either. We’ll need to find another strategy,” Shem decided. “He tried to go home early, and that’s what alerted the patrols this morning. Then rumor and fear, being as efficient as they are, blew everything out of proportion. The major’s been on high alert since early morning, completely perplexed.”

  “Confusion is good,” the man patted Zenos on the back. “You doubt what you see, so you make up explanations of what it may have been, and soon you can’t even remember what you saw to begin with. By the time this night is over, I’m guessing there’ll be about a dozen different stories, all compelling, all terrifying, and none of them accurate. No one’s imagination will ever let them believe that it was—oh, there he is. Ugh, he is a mess.”

  Through the undergrowth came the noisiest creature to ever plod in the forest. He saw Zenos and went straight for him, collapsing in exhaustion at his feet.

  “Oh, good dog Barker!” Shem squatted and scratched the massive black dog behind the ears. “Well done, well done. Look at you, covered in burs, twigs, and what’s this? Ew, never mind. Sorry about that. Not sure if we’ll have time to brush you out before we bring you home.” From his front pocket Shem pulled out a piece of jerky, Barker’s favorite.

  Barker looked up at Shem, his tired eyes drooping, his drool running, but his tail wagging whip-like and thrashing the long dry grasses behind him. He gulped down his reward.

  His two handlers for the night appeared a moment later, winded. “He always hears your voice, Shem, and heads straight for you. He could sniff you out from anywhere in the forest, couldn’t he?” One of the handlers, dressed in a dark brown mottled jacket and trouser, grinned.

  The second handler in brown gestured to the three being bound. “Looks like good hunting tonight, eh?”

  The three captives stared at them, stunned by the appearance of two more men as if the trees had just spat them out, along with an abnormally huge dog that could have been spawned by a gurgling black cavern.

  One of the captives managed to cough out his gag. “Who are you?!” he demanded. “And whose side are you on, anyway, Quiet Man?!” he said to Zenos.

  The man in the black jacket stared at him for a moment before saying, “Get them out of here.”

  He turned, took the dog by the rope around his neck, and said, “Alongside, Barker. One more problem in the woods tonight. Alongside, alongside.” And he jogged down through the trees back toward the east in what he hoped was the direction of Mahrree.

  Fourteen innocent lives, he reminded himself as they weaved through pines and scrubby oaks.

  Fourteen.

  In his mind a scale presented itself: the fourteen on one side, and the one man lying dead on the other. The fourteen clearly outweighed the one, but when Shem stepped onto the scale with the fourteen, suddenly it was all out of balance.

  It was his duty. It was why he was there. He was guilty only of eliminating the guilty. In the mathematics of it all, that made him innocent. In a few hours he might believe it. His initial training would take hold of both his heart and mind, and reassure him that this was all right.

  But for now the deed was still so raw in his mind.

  At least it was dark. As long as it was always dark when he does such things, he might be able to live with the memory of what he didn’t see. It was his graphic imagination that haunted him.

  Fourteen innocent. Fourteen innocent. Because of him.

  ---

  Mahrree sat at the edge of the forest curled up under an evergreen bush that was so pungent she knew she’d never forget its scent, no matter how hard she tried. It would always be tied to her memory of that night. She sobbed silently, shamefully, with the horrible realization.

  She was a coward.

  Just like everyone else.

  ---

  Shem did his best quiet jog through the woods trying to discern where she might be. Along the edges, most likely. But he didn’t dare get too close. The soldiers were still patrolling, looking for large dark objects moving strangely through the forest. Crashing through the bushes next to Shem was the world’s noisiest spy—the very beast every man in the army had been futilely looking for since dawn. Through the trees he could see the dim movements of soldiers and horses, and watched the uneven pattern of their passing.

  Shem slowed his progress and caught Barker by the rope around his neck. “Halt, Barker,” he whispered when he knew a gap in the patrols was beginning. “Down there.” He crouched next to the dog. “That rock in the distance? That’s not supposed to be there. Watch it for a moment . . . see? It’s quivering slightly. That’s Mahrree. Now Barker, you need to go down to her and take her home, all right?” He slipped the rope off of Barker’s neck. “Away from me. Home, home, home,” he commanded as he had so many times before, and pushed him in the right direction.

  Shem held his breath as Barker first decided to water a pine tree, then started in an ungainly lope. The effect was precisely what Shem had hoped for. Barker’s awkward jog through the dried leaves sent the ‘rock’ Shem identified to her feet, terrified that something was coming.

  “That ought to cure your curiosity about the forest for a time,” Shem whispered as Mahrree, panic-stricken, backed up quickly out of the woods. She collapsed to her knees and covered her head with her arms just as Barker lumbered out of the forest and flopped on her. Mahrree’s cry of terror was muffled by the thick black fur of her rescuer.

  “Sorry about that, Mahrree,” Shem whispered and shook his head sadly, “but you really don’t belong out here. Someday, though. Someday we’ll come for you, too.”

  ---

  “Get off! Get off, please!” Mahrree cried and flailed as the massive weight overwhelmed her. She kicked and pushed and tried to remember some of the defensive techniques Perrin had taught her, but she was useless.

  Panicked, cowardly, and now useless.

  It was the licking that completely startled her.

  “What?” she gasped, scrambling to stand up. She pushed back her hood and looked at her attacker. “Barker? Barker! What—? Where—?”

  For once in her life she was grateful to see the ugly beast. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around the dog, not caring that he was dripping drool on her shoulder as he panted.

  “I don’t believe it! You were in the forest? Was that you, all the time, scaring the soldiers? Oh, Perrin’s going to kill you! Not really,” she assured the dog as she pet him for the first time in many moons. Her hands ran
across all kinds of prickly pokey things, and along something else mucky that smelled fouler than nature should. She kept reminding herself she could wash up with lavender soap when she got home, maybe even use up the entire bar.

  “It wasn’t only you, was it?” she whispered, clinging to the animal while her heart calmed down again. “There are more, aren’t there?” She slumped down realizing, again, that the woman was right about her. “I found the hard truth, Barker, and it’s this: I really don’t want to know the truth.” She sighed miserably and stood up. “Come on. Walk the most cowardly, stupid woman in the world home.”

  It was well past midnight when Mahrree knocked rhythmically on her front door. She did it two more times to wake up Sareen, who eventually opened the door and yawned a giggle. It was a remarkable thing to witness, and Mahrree hoped she’d never witness it again.

  “Sorry, Miss Mahrree. Guess I did fall asleep. Shem was right. Wonderful pillow!”

  “Oh, I’m the one who’s sorry, keeping you out so late,” said Mahrree with feigned brightness as she stepped into the house. At least it was dark enough that Sareen couldn’t see Mahrree’s puffy red eyes. “I fell asleep myself at my mother’s, and . . .”

  She was just one lie after another. Merely a silly little woman with silly little ideas that amounted to nothing. She felt heavy with her worthlessness.

  Barker trotted in and headed straight for the kitchen.

  Sareen waved her hand under her nose. “I see, or rather smell, that you found Barker.”

  “Uh, yes,” Mahrree said slowly, hoping she wouldn’t have to explain how. “You know, it’s so late, maybe you should stay here tonight, Sareen.”

  The poor girl giggled again. “My mother will be expecting me to check in tonight, so I best go. Besides, should Corporal Zenos come by—”

  Mahrree had to do at least one right and honest thing that night, or the weight of her guilt would sink her through the wood floor to the cellar.

  “Sareen,” she took her firmly by the arm, “I’m so sorry, but Corporal Zenos just isn’t interested in . . . having a girlfriend. I don’t know that he will for a very long time.”

  Sareen’s persistently cheery glow dimmed. “I know that, Miss Mahrree,” she said with uncharacteristic soberness. Not even a serious giggle accompanied her grave tone. “I know he’s only being polite to me, and that if isn’t attracted to me yet, he likely never will be.”

  Mahrree didn’t expect any of that. “So you understand that?”

  “I’m not stupid, Miss Mahrree. I do know a thing or two.”

  Even though she’d been female for over thirty years now, Mahrree still didn’t understand girls. “So Sareen, why do you keep trying? Keep talking about him?”

  “The truth’s hard to live with, Miss Mahrree,” she said with a sad smile.

  Mahrree’s throat developed an enormous lump, otherwise she would have said, Don’t I know it.

  “I’d rather keep the little dream alive.” But she shrugged in discouragement as she watched her fingers twist a part of her skirt. “Just in case he . . . changes his mind and surprises me one day.”

  Mahrree was completely baffled. “But Sareen, I just told you, and you admitted that you know—”

  “He could change his mind!” Sareen insisted, her head snapping back up to face her former teacher. “Suddenly one morning he could wake up, realize he’s lonely, look around and see me there, that I’ve always been there, waiting and hoping. And then he’ll realize how much he wants me, and . . .” Her chin trembled until a giggle—hard and determined—forced its way out. “And then we’ll just see!”

  I’m just like her, Mahrree thought dismally. I know the truth is out there, but I’d much rather live with the lies I’ve created for myself. Lies such as, I’m a smart, brave woman willing to do whatever it takes to uncover the secrets and find the truth.

  But we want to see the blue in the sky—Mahrree had to admit to herself—despite all evidence to the contrary.

  The Administrators were winning.

  I’m such an idiot. And so is Sareen.

  “Sareen, promise me you’ll look at other young men, too,” Mahrree said. “Just in case Shem never . . . comes to his senses to see what he’s missing in you.”

  Sareen nodded, the cheeriness automatically returning as if she had practiced that happy look a dozen times a day to be sure it appeared authentic. “I will, Miss Mahrree.” She turned to head down the front stairs.

  “Please be careful, Sareen! Run home!”

  Sareen waved that off. “Look at the tower. No fires, no banners—nothing’s wrong. The forest is completely quiet and I’m perfectly safe. Good night!”

  “Good night,” Mahrree whispered at the willingly naïve, stupid girl.

  Edge was full of them that night.

  She slowly shut the door, hung up her cloak, and trudged heavily to the kitchen. Barker lay at the back door, already asleep despite his filth.

  “Who is it, Barker? And why? How do they—?”

  She sighed, took the grooming brush from out of a drawer, and plopped down on the floor in the dark kitchen next to the dog.

  “You realize I’m asking you because I know you can’t answer, right? I’ll ask every question in the world as long as I know I won’t get an answer.” Her words choked her with a renewal of humbling disgrace, and with tears streaming down her face, she started to brush the burrs and twigs out of Barker’s thick black fur.

  She was completely surprised to hear the back door unlock and someone push on it a moment later.

  “Barker! Get away!” Perrin’s voice came through the door.

  Barker only grunted, and Mahrree took him by his legs and dragged him away from the door.

  Perrin pushed it open and saw her in the dim moons’ light. “Mahrree! What are you doing up so late?”

  She had honest answer. “The dog just came home and he’s a mess. I was trying to clean him up a bit. Didn’t feel like sleeping.”

  Perrin slipped into the house and shut the door behind him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d still be up, worried.”

  That would be her alibi, she decided as she picked out burs and brushed the fur.

  Perrin sat down next to her and ran his hand over the dog to catch the twigs. “What in the world has he been up to? Last time I saw him was yesterday evening. And what’s with that smell? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was rolling around in bear droppings.”

  “You know about that, huh?” Mahrree asked, hoping her tone sounded light and teasing.

  “Stepped in some right outside the forest once,” he confessed in a whisper. “Looks like he had a good time, whatever it was.”

  She didn’t respond.

  He kissed her on the cheek. “I really am sorry I didn’t send a messenger. I could never find Zenos, and I thought you would figure what was going on. And what was going on was . . . Well, we still don’t know,” he sighed in frustration. “Gizzada said he saw you around midday meal and filled you in a bit.”

  “He did,” Mahrree said as cheerfully as she could muster, glad he couldn’t see her lying face. “Did he bring you two sandwiches like I ordered him to?”

  Perrin chuckled quietly as he continued pulling out burs. “I’ve never before had a sandwich made with the meats of three different animals, and since he also added goat cheese and lettuce, then put it on oat and barley bread, I felt like I was devouring an entire farm. But somehow he made it work, quite well. He should sell those in the market. I couldn’t even finish the second one and didn’t get hungry again until about an hour ago. Is that pie on the work table?”

  “Yes,” Mahrree said. “Blackberry. Do you want some?”

  There was absolutely nothing wrong with the words she spoke, but so much emotion came out with them that it sounded as if she was trying to conceal the fact she had murdered their children.

  Perrin heard it. “Mahrree, are you all right?” He put his arm around her and pulled her close
.

  “Yes,” she lied again, unconvincingly.

  “At times like this I remember my father’s only advice about women: when they’re crying but claim they’re fine, they’re the biggest liars in the world.”

  “You have no idea!” Mahrree burst out.

  “Ah, boy,” he mumbled to himself. “Not getting to bed anytime soon, am I?” He gave her a squeeze. “So tell me, my darling wife—what I have done now?”

  “Nothing! It’s not you, it’s me!” she said shortly, and went back to brushing the dog a bit too aggressively.

  She wouldn’t cry. Not anymore. She’d already proved she was weak and worthless; crying would only emphasize that.

  “Not my fault? Well, good. That simplifies everything. Now, what could it be that has my wife so worked up tonight?” he said easily. “Another man she has hidden in the cellar? Spent all our savings on silk underclothes for Jaytsy? Sold Peto to the Administrators?”

  “Perrin, just never mind. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  He paused. “By that do you mean, ‘I really do want to talk about it, but I need you to convince me that I do,’ or ‘I really don’t want to talk about it’?”

  She sighed.

  “And . . . no answer,” he said, realizing he had yet another mystery on his hands. “You think after more than three years of marriage I’d understand you better.”

  “That’s because I don’t even understand myself,” she whispered. “I thought I did. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted, but now I realize . . .” She stopped, unable to say the words.

  But something else also concerned her. “Perrin, does it ever bother you that people know you?”

  “Know me?” He sounded puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “That people you don’t even know, know who you are. They see you and the uniform and automatically know, ‘That’s Perrin Shin’.”

  “I don’t know,” he shrugged in the shadows. “I never thought about it. People have always known me. When you’re the only grandson of the High General of Idumea, and then the only son of the next High General, you tend to stick out.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?” she asked earnestly. “Complete strangers may know a lot about you, and you don’t even know their names? Don’t you feel vulnerable?”

  He patted his sword next to his side. “I’ve always been armed, even when I was a boy. Long knife at age seven. But I also never felt any danger. Honestly, it never occurred to me.”

  That was when Mahrree realized just how courageous—completely and utterly—her husband was, and always had been. He had gone into the forest—a few times—and even stayed there to fight men with daggers who tried to kill him. All she faced was a nasty woman with condescending demeanor who tried to hurt her feelings and sense of security.

  Oh, how terrifying.

  Her insides twisted to remember that she ever thought Perrin to be a coward.

  “What’s this all about?” he said gently.

  She didn’t deserve his tenderness, and she sighed before saying, “Perrin, I wrote another letter, after that third one.”

  “So . . .” he exhaled, “you got another form letter? A fourth to add to your collection?”

  “I did, a while ago actually, but I’m not upset about that. To be honest, Perrin, I’m quite glad now. I don’t know what I was thinking, that they would send me a letter back saying, ‘Mrs. Shin, you’re right! How could we have not recognized the wisdom of your words? You are indeed a brilliant woman, and we’re so grateful that you wrote to inform us of our failings!’”

  Perrin chuckled, but stopped when he realized she wasn’t being facetious.

  “For some reason, Perrin—” although she knew the reason, “I suddenly feel very vulnerable. Being married to you, I realize now that people know me. I doubt they know anything else besides the fact that I’m your wife, but complete strangers know who I am. I started thinking about the Administrators and realized, I do NOT want any of them to know me! Why would I want that attention?! What would I say if I were to run into one of them face-to-face? My words might be taken the wrong way!”

  She was nearly hysterical, gesturing maniacally with the grooming brush.

  “My spouting off might actually alarm someone who doesn’t realize I’m only a little woman in a little village who means nothing! I could cause trouble! I could bring harm to our children! To you! What did I want?!”

  Perrin nodded as he drew her close to him. “I’ll always protect you, Mahrree. You don’t have to worry about that. I’ve kept you safe before, and I always will. I understand that you feel vulnerable, but honestly, no one would recognize you in a crowd.”

  “Are you absolutely sure?”

  “Just never stand next to me in a crowd, and I’m sure!”

  She remained tense, and he held her tighter.

  “Tell you what, here’s how to remain in the shadows where you’re safe. Write no more letters to Idumea—”

  She nodded rapidly in agreement, and he smiled in relief.

  “Don’t upset Mr. Hegek, although that’s rather difficult since he’s as skittish as a mouse that’s been sighted by Barker—”

  She continued nodding.

  “And never anger the commander of the fort.”

  She sniffed a soft chuckle. “Sounds good,” she said, but oddly, it didn’t. She sat up out of his embrace and wiped her nose as a memory came back to her.

  “What is it now?” Perrin said patiently, realizing that she was still lost in thoughts she wouldn’t share.

  “I was just thinking about Poe,” she whispered.

  He sighed loudly. “I’m completely lost now.”

  “We were talking, before I started doing After School Care, about Terryp. I told him about that mysterious fire after the Great War, and how all of Terryp’s writings were lost.”

  “So . . .”

  “He said something extraordinary along the lines of, people don’t like to change what they know, even if they suspect it may be wrong. Even if the truth would be amazing.”

  “Poe’s a very smart boy. He has great potential, as long as he doesn’t listen to his mother too much.”

  “He was right,” Mahrree whispered. “People would rather live in lies.”

  “Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” Perrin said, going back to pull twigs out of Barker’s fur again. “I think people live only what they know. If they know it’s a lie, they look for the truth.”

  “Like we’ve looked for the truth about Shem Zenos?” she glumly reminded him.

  “There’s no reason to investigate him further. There’s nothing to be found.”

  “So we like the truth we believe about him?”

  “Yes,” he conceded reluctantly. “But if something else comes up to cast doubt on him, I’ll be the first to look into it. I thought we were done talking about Zenos.”

  “We are,” she assured him. “But think about it in general—what if people find a new truth, and . . . it frightens them? What should they do?”

  He paused. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about that.”

  “Neither had I. Until tonight,” she whispered. “You know something else I said to Poe? I told him how they had to drag Terryp away from the ruins, and that the entire experience nearly killed him.”

  “That’s true,” he said leadingly, waiting for what else was to come.

  “I told him that Terryp almost died from trying to understand a new truth and that people have given up their lives for far less important things than that.”

  “That’s also accurate,” agreed Perrin, his tone trying to encourage her to get to the point before morning.

  “But I didn’t tell him people also shrink away from the truth,” she said miserably, “unwilling to make the sacrifices. Terryp was one of the few brave ones who did. The rest of us? Just cowards. I don’t mean you, I mean me.”

  Perrin was silent for a moment. “Either it’s because it’s very late, or
because I’m very tired—and please know that I truly love you—but Mahrree, I really don’t understand you tonight.”

  She leaned against his chest. “I hope you never do.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Can I have that in writing?”

  ---

  A soldier came out of the fresh spring area. His jacket, which had been inside out a moment ago revealing a dull dark lining, was now on the correct way. The sword, which he left leaning against a tree in its sheath since running with it wasn’t practical, was replaced around his waist. He fastened the last silver button just as he stepped out from the cover of the trees.

  Three soldiers on horseback approached, stopped, and smirked at him.

  “Feeling better yet, Zenos?” asked a private. “Or do we need to do one more circuit and come back for you? I hope you didn’t ruin the spring.”

  The two other soldiers sniggered.

  “No, no, I’m ready,” Shem said wearily. “And I stayed clear of the spring, I promise. Look, I appreciate you not saying anything to anyone. Kind of embarrassing, you know.”

  Another corporal chuckled. “Look at him, men. Breathing heavy, sweating, pale . . . I’ve seen it all before. I told you, Zenos: one should never eat anything presented on a stick. If the sausage is gray and wobbly, you should be asking why, not how much it costs. I don’t care how pretty the girl was selling it.”

  Zenos took the reins of his horse that had remained tethered to a tree for the past hour and a half. “You warned me, I’ll admit it,” he groaned. “And now I’m suffering for it. That should make you happy. And the worst part? She wasn’t even that pretty. When she smiled, her teeth were all black. Probably from eating the sausage.”

  The three soldiers laughed as Zenos mounted, grunting in discomfort.

  “Ugh. I now know why so many people refuse to eat pork.”

  “Poor Zenos,” said another corporal. “I guess this just proves you don’t have the guts to be a soldier!”

  The three soldiers laughed as Zenos winced.

  “Ha-ha. How long have you been waiting to say that?”

  “About an hour.”

  “If you want to see what kind of guts I really have, I can take you to the evidence,” Zenos hinted.

  The corporal groaned. “I don’t want to be sick myself, Zenos. The look on your face is evidence enough.”

  The three soldiers chuckled.

  “At least the forest has fallen quiet again,” said the private. “Master Sergeant Neeks just sent out the word to bring all the extra patrols back in. Even the major’s given up and gone home. Nothing’s been moving for half an hour . . . except for Zenos’s bowels.”

  The three soldiers roared in laughter, while Shem shook his head.

  The stories he had to live with . . .

  ---

  In the forest a mass of bodies walked—quietly—away.

  Chapter 24 ~ “I’d rather fight the current.”