The Forest at the Edge of the World (Book One, Forest at the Edge series)

by Trish Mercer

  Chapter 21 ~ "Something like this shouldn't happen for quite a while considering . . ."

  Several moons later, by the middle of Planting Season, 320, Mahrree had had more than enough.

  Enough of the over-sized tunics and skirts that only emphasized how enormous she was.

  Enough of the cringes of sympathy she received as she waddled like a stuffed duck through the market place.

  Enough of inane questions such as, "Haven't you had that baby yet?" as if it was her fault, and making her feel badly would somehow change the situation.

  Even enough of her husband smiling as sweetly as he could and reminding her how beautiful she looked as he gingerly patted her swollen belly.

  He was supposed to do that, Mahrree knew. She found it on Joriana Shin's list to her son.

  "Number two: remind her how beautiful she looks carrying your child."

  Mahrree loved the wording of that, almost as much as she loved number seven: "Accept the blame for everything, and don't aggravate her. Remember that this is, after all, your fault."

  And Mahrree reminded him of that fact, frequently. Maybe if he had been a bit smaller in frame, she wouldn't have been double her size for the past ten weeks. Now, in the middle of Planting Season, while everything else in the world was bursting in new color and life, Mahrree was just bursting.

  Oh it had been sweet and exciting a season and a half ago, once she finally got over feeling ill each morning and saw the small bulge beginning in her belly. They had to only tell her mother, and Hycymum squealed so loud the entire village knew within five minutes. Joriana Shin had even come to Edge in the dreary middle of Raining Season to bring baby blankets, clothing, changing cloths, and a new list for her son which he kept secured in his wardrobe for referral.

  That was where Mahrree found it one day while rearranging his clothing in a fit of needing to organize things which, interestingly, she saw as number ten on the list: "She will feel the need to reorganize everything. Help her. Remember, all of this is your fault."

  Mahrree loved her mother-in-law.

  All in all the waiting had been fine, and even the forest had been quiet, allowing her to have her husband home every night. But for the past two weeks Mahrree had been "growing irrationally testy"-number one on her mother-in-law's list. Everything was ready. The addition next to the study was completed and outfitted with the cradle she'd used as a baby, and the wardrobe was stocked with blankets, gowns, and stacks of changing cloths which Mahrree was delighted to see Perrin eyeing suspiciously one evening. She was sure she heard him mumble, "Isn't there a better design for these? Maybe something to bury in the ground instead of washing afterwards?"

  Everything was in place, except the massive creature that rolled slowly like a land tremor in Mahrree's belly. There was nothing else she could do each day, especially since she had quit teaching, but grumble as she straightened up the house, did the laundry, and washed the dishes. Loudly.

  "I'm going to break rule number eleven," Perrin said, peeking his head around the door at a safe distance. He came home for his midday meal every day for the past few weeks, just to check on her.

  "And what is rule number eleven?" she asked crossly as she leaned across the washing basin, straining to reach a plate. "No matter how tempting, don't use my belly as a shelf?"

  He stepped into the kitchen and slid the plate over to her. "No, that's number nine. And I have resisted the temptation." He gently took her by the shoulders and turned her, the massive belly bumping into his sheathed sword. "Sorry," he murmured as he tried to hide his amusement. "My mother said I should never tell you that it will end, because at this point you simply won't believe me, and may want to hurt me."

  "She's right," Mahrree agreed, "because-"

  "I know, I know-this is all my fault. But I love you for enduring it."

  Mahrree was about to reemphasize his point, but only got as far as opening her mouth.

  "What's wrong?" Perrin asked, looking down. "Did your belly actually get nicked?"

  She shook her head.

  "See a mouse?"

  She let out a low moan and gripped his arms.

  His eyebrows shot upwards. "Pain?"

  She nodded.

  "That kind of pain?"

  "Yes!" She gripped his arms tighter.

  "It's about time!" He sighed in relief.

  "It's not over yet, Perrin!" she gasped again.

  He stayed loyally by her side that afternoon, the 46th Day of Planting, uselessly rubbing her back and pointlessly promising her that everything would be all right.

  Hycymum and the midwives-retrieved by a messenger from the fort wondering where the captain was-tried to encourage Perrin to pace outside once Mahrree felt like someone was whacking her back with a timber.

  It wasn't until he saw a midwife strewing a bale of hay across the wooden floor by the hearth in the gathering room-"Makes it easier to clean up the messes," she explained-that he willingly left.

  Two hours later an exhausted Mahrree, drenched with sweat and tears, and shocked that so much could change so quickly, stared at the bundle in her arms. Her mother and the midwives were surprised that the baby was so small. Mahrree's seeming enormity must have been a trick of the eye, they decided, magnified by her slight frame. The baby probably came early.

  But she didn't know what they were talking about; nothing about the newborn she spent the last hour and a half birthing seemed small.

  Downstairs in the kitchen Hycymum was busily stirring up a late dinner, while upstairs one of the midwives helped Mahrree get comfortable in the bed where they had moved her.

  "It will be all right," she assured. "Just give him some time. They almost always come around."

  Mahrree shrugged. "Thank you again."

  The midwife nodded. "I'll be back later tonight to check on-" She stopped when she heard the door slam downstairs.

  "Mahrree?!" Perrin's deep voice boomed throughout the house.

  The midwife picked up a bag of bloodied cloths, smiled in encouragement, and headed down the stairs. She nodded a greeting to the captain as Perrin bounded up to his bedroom.

  "Mahrree!" He stopped at the door and looked at her worriedly. "The other midwife said only that the baby was birthed, and that it's a bit small, and your mother wouldn't tell me anything so is it, is it . . .?"

  "It's all right," Mahrree smiled at him. "All the fingers and toes, cried, breathing."

  He took another step closer, his broad shoulders tense with concern. "So what's wrong?"

  She practiced her brave face. "Perrin, you have a daughter." Then she braced for his response.

  He stood motionless. "But?"

  Mahrree bit her lower lip. "Well . . ."

  His shoulders dropped in relief and a grin spread across his face. "So she's all right? Healthy and everything?" He took another cautious step closer.

  "Yes," Mahrree began to smile more genuinely.

  "Mahrree," he said slowly, "did you think I would be upset about a baby girl?"

  "Umm . . ."

  His face softened and he sat carefully on the bed next to her. "I don't care what we have, as long as we get to have a child."

  "But are you sure?" she pressed. "Four generations of Shins have produced sons. Officers! Perrin Shin's daughter can't even join the army."

  He chuckled. "Perrin Shin's son might not want to join the army, either. You know I don't care about tradition. I'm rather progressive that way." He grinned at her and peered over into the bundle of blankets she held close to her chest.

  She held the bundle out to him. "Would you like to hold your daughter?"

  To her surprise, his eyes grew wet. "Absolutely," he whispered, and took his newborn.

  In his massive hands she really did look small. He could have held her with one hand, which he did. He slid back the blanket covering her head to see her hair. When she first emerged, Mahrree thought her matted hair was black, but after the midwives washed her the newborn's hair was l
ighter and fuzzy.

  Perrin smiled as he ran his hand over it. "Your hair, so far," he said to Mahrree. "What color are her eyes?"

  The newborn squinted to see what was making the noise, but she didn't open her eyes more than a crack.

  Mahrree felt her own eyes blurring to see how tenderly her husband held their daughter. "Grayish, for now. One of the midwives said newborns she's seen with that eye color tend to go very dark. Your eyes then, later."

  Perrin softly kissed her tiny lips, and she squirmed and grunted. "She's beautiful, Mahrree!" he beamed. "Perfect. Welcome to Edge, my little Relfikin."

  "Uh . . ."

  Perrin looked at her with mock sobriety. "Not Relfikin then?"

  "Please no?"

  He gazed at his daughter, inspecting her features. "Well then, what if we take two letters from your mother's name, and two letters from my mother's name, and toss in a couple other letters, then mix them all up for something new?"

  "Sounds like you've been watching my mother cook."

  "So, my tiny daughter," he whispered to her, "how do you feel about . . . Jaytsy?"

  Mahrree blinked. "You came up with that rather quickly."

  "Jaytsy," he said again, trying out her name. "Jaytsy . . . Well Mahrree, what else should I have been doing for the last two hours while pacing between here and the fort? I wasn't worrying about Guarders."

  "You were coming up with baby names?"

  "I should be doing something useful, don't you think?" He smiled at his baby.

  Mahrree grinned. "I like it-Jaytsy Shin. Just out of curiosity, what boy names did you come up with?"

  He looked at her. "I didn't think of any boy names. Only girls'."

  That's when Mahrree started to cry.

  Perrin smiled at his tiny girl. "Don't be alarmed by your mother's behavior, little Jaytsy. Your Grandmother Shin left me another list for what to expect after you were birthed. Crying is on top. It means she's happy you're finally here. And so am I."

  Mahrree sobbed.

  ---

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

  "A girl?" the second man said, concerned.

  Mal chuckled mirthlessly. "I'm curious to see what happens next. I could tell Relf was trying to make the most of it, but in his eyes I could see his disappointment. Such a manly son, and all he can produce is a female? Ha!"

  His partner waved that off. "Oh, I'm sure High General Shin isn't that perturbed by a granddaughter. Without women, there would be no more men, after all. She could still be the mother of another general someday-"

  "But Joriana Shin is apparently quite pleased," Mal said, narrowing his eyes. "You sure there isn't some way women can't influence the kind of baby they birth? Some way they sleep, or eat, or carry it-"

  The second man laughed. "If there is, every woman would want to know the secret! Granted, men have suspected since the beginning that women communicated things we'll never understand, but knowledge as to how give birth to a girl rather than a boy?"

  Mal's shoulder twitched at his companion's continued laughter. "It was a legitimate question."

  His companion wiped his eyes. "So what do you think will 'happen next,' as you so ominously put it?"

  "He can't be happy with this," said Mal with a developing sneer. "What if having a baby wasn't even his idea? What if it was hers?"

  "So what?"

  Mal sighed impatiently. "Sometimes you're so slow. Of what use is a girl to a man like him?"

  "Many men actually enjoy their daughters," the other man explained. "Find them not as disappointing as their sons."

  "Speculation," Mal clasped his hands in front of him. "We will soon see evidence that he is disappointed by having a daughter."

  "Such as?"

  Mal shrugged. "Some male animals neglect their young. Some leave the mate to raise the offspring herself. Bears have been known to destroy cubs to reduce competition."

  The second man studied his companion. "Interesting that you automatically assume some level of neglect or abuse. That's what you're biased to look for, so you'll likely miss what actually happens. Rather sloppy science, Nicko."

  "I'm expecting a counter speculation, Doctor!" Mal said coldly.

  The second man nodded once. "Counter speculation, then: Shin will surprise us-or rather, you-again. We'll soon see evidence that he does enjoy his daughter, and is open-minded enough to see how females are also necessary to the furthering of the world."

  Mal's mouth moved into position of a smile, but nothing else on his face did. "Oh, how I enjoy your naivet?. So optimistic. Just fills me with warm thoughts of butterflies and flowers. Will you be traveling to Edge to bring the precious infant a pair of knitted booties, then?"

  "What a wonderful idea," the man said. "I've always wanted to check out the fishing in Edge."

  Mal glowered as his companion snorted a laugh.

  ---

  On Perrin and Mahrree's first wedding anniversary, the 38th Day of Weeding 292, they didn't celebrate like many other couples did to commemorate their first year together by eating in the marketplace or going to the amphitheater. Instead they sat leaning against each other on their sofa, Perrin cradling their three-moons-old little girl who slept peacefully in his arms, while Mahrree closed her eyes in relief that Jaytsy had been quiet for more than an hour, for once.

  "How long until she's sleeping through the night?" Perrin whispered.

  "I don't know," Mahrree whispered back, both of them worried they might wake her. "Two mothers last Holy Day told me their babies slept through the night from the very beginning."

  "Ah," Perrin nodded, "I noticed you had a murderous look in your eyes. That comment must have been what produced it."

  "Then a midwife told me it can take half a year or more before they sleep through the night!"

  "You're not going to cry about that again, are you?"

  Mahrree chuckled quietly. "Just tears of exhaustion. That was on your mother's list, too. You were there when the other fathers told you about weeping wives, right?"

  He smiled. "I have to admit, I never understood the need for parents to sit around talking about their children during the congregational meal. But now? It's nice to know our daughter's normal. And you're mostly normal."

  "It was a legitimate question!"

  "But Mahrree, to describe in detail to other parents, while they are eating, the nature and the amount of the fluids Jaytsy produces is not the best dinner conversation."

  Mahrree smirked. "None of them flinched. They knew exactly what I was talking about, and you were relieved to know as well that it was normal for her to squirt out so much, and so violently."

  He shrugged in reluctant agreement.

  "I never appreciated them before until now," Mahrree said, stroking Jaytsy's soft light brown hair. "The villagers, I mean. I've lived here all my life, but I never really understood what it meant to be part of them."

  "I rather miss the nightly dinners they brought in," Perrin admitted. "Although some women have strange ideas of what to do with chicken, it was nice that you didn't have to cook for five weeks."

  "Mmm, I miss that, too."

  "Mahrree, why don't you go upstairs and nap? Jaytsy's got that thumb in her mouth again. She'll be quiet for a while."

  "And miss our first anniversary?"

  "You're eyes are closed, my darling wife. You're missing it."

  "Are you doing anything entertaining?" She forced her eyes open.

  "Not until Jaytsy wakes up and I get her to laugh again. That sound has got to be the-" He stopped before he said the "c" word Mahrree had teased him that he would eventually utter.

  "I'm not missing anything, then."

  Perrin chuckled.

  Jaytsy stirred at the low noise, and both of her parents held their breath. She stretched, grunted, and snuggled back into her father's arms.

  Her parents exhaled.

  "It seemed to be so easy," Mahrree murmured quietly. "Feed them, burp them, cha
nge them, put them to sleep."

  "We had no idea what we were getting into, did we?" Perrin smiled. "I wonder if we'll ever get the hang of it before she outgrows us. Bath time is entertaining, I'll admit that."

  "And you've become quite expert at changing cloths. I think you're the only man in Edge who is."

  "Just don't let anyone know about that. Not very dignified for the commander of the fort at Edge to be known as a dirty cloth changer."

  "Just remember it's because you have a strong stomach, Captain Shin."

  "And don't you forget it!" He ran his finger along Jaytsy's soft cheek. "She's already getting bigger and fatter. That's good, right?"

  "Baby fat is very good."

  "As surprising as all of this has been, I must admit I'm enjoying it. She really is . . . quite . . ." He faltered to find the right word.

  "Say it. I dare you. The 'c' word. As your anniversary gift to me."

  "All right-she's cute." He sighed in amused resignation. "There. Satisfied?"

  Mahrree cuddled into him. "Completely! Happy Anniversary, Mr. Shin."

  "It always will be with you, Mrs. Shin."

  ---

  Two moons later Jaytsy was five moons old and learning to sit, snatch food off of her parents' plates, and laugh easily. And Mahrree and Perrin began to feel a bit of confidence in what they were doing.

  Until Mahrree awoke one morning in the second week of Harvest to a most unusual feeling. Not that it wasn't familiar, just very unexpected. She wished Perrin still had the bucket under the bed, and when the feeling didn't pass she made a quick trip to the washing room. Then she sat, stunned, on the small sofa, wondering if it was something she ate or . . .?

  No. It couldn't be that. Absolutely not already.

  Now, the law was that each woman could birth only two children, in order to keep the population from overtaxing their resources. And Mahrree had heard that some thought it a good idea that if a couple wanted their full quota of babies, they should have the children close together . . .

  But this-this close?

  By the end of the week Perrin had that same look in his eyes he had over a year before. As Mahrree flopped wearily back into bed from another early run to the washing room, he said, "So I was thinking the next addition should go on the other side of the house, up against the side fence. I have some ideas and I'd like to build this one by myself. I don't know that Jaytsy would like to share a room when she's a teenager."

  "I can't believe it," Mahrree muttered. "I mean, it's really quite miraculous. Something like this shouldn't happen for quite a while considering . . ." Then the tears began to fall. "But Perrin, Jaytsy still isn't sleeping through the night!" she wailed. "We'll never sleep again!"

  "At least this time we'll know what we're doing. Sort of." Perrin chuckled quietly and gave her a comforting kiss on the cheek. "Last Holy Day I heard someone wonder if the Creator has a sense of humor. I think I now have an answer for him."

 

  ---

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

  "The information on the raid in Trades has been most intriguing. I appreciated the chart you made," Mal said.

  "Thank you," the second man nodded. "I was cutting up my wife's pie, and had the idea that its shape would lend itself to representing the variety of responses. I never before appreciated her pies. After so many years you would think she could figure out how to make a decent one. This one was still undercooked, but at least I-"

  "So," Mal said, cutting off his partner before he went into too much detail about his disappointing dessert, "Edge has been very quiet for a few moons, hasn't it?"

  "Well, I suppose you could say that," the second man said. "At least the forest's been quiet. Wait a minute. You haven't heard the news?"

  "News? What news?"

  "I thought that was the real reason for our meeting tonight, that you were going to twist this into verifying your speculation."

  "What are you talking about?" Mal demanded.

  His partner chuckled to prolong Mal's irritation. "It seems our Captain Shin has been a very busy man. Truly, Relf didn't tell you?"

  Mal nearly had smoke coming out of his ears.

  "They kept it quiet for a time, the shock of it all, but . . ." The second man leaned closer to him. "The captain's going to be a father again. By the end of next Planting Season, most likely."

  "No!" Mal exclaimed.

  His companion grinned. "Yes."

  "He's taken a mistress?"

  "No!" the middle-aged man laughed. "His wife's expecting again."

  "That will be two in just over a year's time," Mal said in disbelief. "Is that . . . is that typical, Doctor?"

  The doctor shook his head. "No, but not unheard of. You see, in some cases, the female can still-"

  "Ha!" Mal cut him off in sudden realization-and also because the anatomy of women was never anything he was ever interested in. "It IS my speculation! He's so dissatisfied with the girl that he's desperately trying for a boy! There!"

  The second man shrugged. "Oh, I don't think so. From the bits of evidence we've gathered, Shin seems to enjoy his daughter. You heard the High General-Perrin even carried his daughter up to the fort to visit her grandfather when he was there for a brief inspection. I watched Relf when he recounted that story. Speaking as a doctor, I believe I saw a spark of approval in his eyes."

  Mal scoffed at that. "There were women in the room, too. Relf was merely trying to play the proud grandfather role, to show he has a family side to him. That's all."

  "That's all you choose to see," his partner said reprovingly. "Nicko, consider that you may be losing your objectivity-"

  "Not that again. You know how tiresome you sound? 'Nicko, you're not objective!'" Mal whined.

  "You know how childish you sound?"

  "I'm sixty-seven years old!" Mal snapped.

  "Age has nothing to do with childishness." The second man leaned forward in his chair. "Nicko, you're a brilliant man with a fantastic mind. Your ability to analyze is unsurpassed. But for some reason, whenever the discussion comes around to Perrin Shin or Relf, you become completely irrational. I see a bead of sweat on your forehead. How's your heart?"

  "Fine!" Mal bristled and clenched his fists.

  The doctor reached over to him. "Let me feel your pulse."

  "NO! It's slightly elevated again, true, but that's only because I'm angry. A natural reaction."

  His partner leaned back. "So, you plan to die before you see the conclusion of this extraordinary study of yours? Because that's what your fury is going to do to you: stop that heart before your mind is ready to quit."

  Mal took a few deep breaths. "See? Better already."

  "Oh, yes," the doctor nodded cynically. "I see the tranquility in your eyes. Nicko, you're not fooling me. Tell me, why do you let him get to you? How can you be so analytically objective in everything else, but not when it comes to the Shins?"

  "I don't know!" Mal hissed. "Do I need a reason? You think running the world is easy? You oversee only one twenty-second of it. I oversee it all! Every soldier and citizen is under my watch, and I'm doing an exceptional job. If I choose to vent my irritations and rage on one family, who isn't even around to feel it, how is that such a problem? Objective? No one is objective, my friend! Irrational? Every person in the world has their moments of irrationality. Look on that shelf; I've documented thousands of displays of irrationality. If I had enough time, I could find a moment of illogical thought and reasoning in every last person in the world. You're the one who keeps telling me to take a walk every now and then. Do my heart some good to get the heart rate up. Well, it's up now! How is this not as healthy as taking a walk, Doctor?!"

  His partner only blinked. "Are you about finished with your little tirade?"

  "We need a new plan for Shin."

  "Wait a minute-I barely compiled the report on the raid in Trades. It will take seasons to go through all of the information. What do you mean, a new plan fo
r Shin?"

  "I want him tested, now. Again."

  His companion exhaled. "Still on your tirade."

  "I'm about to prove to you that I'm a compassionate man, Doctor," Mal said calmly. "I want Perrin Shin to have a son."

  "Uh-huh," his partner said. "And how are you going to ensure that?"

  "Eliminate his wife and daughter."

  The doctor choked and coughed before regaining his voice. "What?!"

  "Consider, what if the second baby is another girl? He's already had one, chances are overwhelming he'll have a second. Then Shin's chances at a son are over. What a waste. Even officers are allowed only two children. But," Mal continued as easily as if he was musing over dinner choices, "as the law states, should his wife and children die, he can remarry and have up to two more children. Another two chances at a son. Now, what's not compassionate about that?"

  It took the doctor several long, heavy moments to respond. "That's . . . that's . . . An expecting woman? That's a little much, don't you think? And a baby?"

  Mal eyed him. "Shin's a test subject, remember? Consider the wealth of information we can gather from such a scenario. How would someone as strong as Shin respond to the loss of his wife and daughter? What we learn could better the entire world in terms of recommendations coming out of the Office of Family on ways to handle grieving. Then again, if he doesn't have any strong feelings for them, we will have done him a tremendous favor. In one way, we stand to gain a great deal, another way he gains a great deal. That's what we call a gain-gain situation."

  Had there been any more light in the room, Mal might have discerned the growing horror in his companion's eyes. But perhaps that was why they always met in the dark.

  "Nicko, you can't be serious. You can't do this . . . not to them."

  "Not to them?" Mal repeated. "Are you sure you're not bonding to him, just a bit? I made that mistake once with a horse. When it died I actually felt some sorrow, and couldn't fully appreciate the information its death provided me. It was almost not worth killing the beast for. Don't fall into that trap now."

  The doctor held up his hands. "I'm not, I'm not. It's just that . . . well, that wealth of information you mentioned-perhaps there's more to this than we realize, a full range of possibilities we haven't considered. Do you know how rare it is for a man, especially an officer, to have two children? And so close together? Nicko, we shouldn't eliminate a potentially captivating research project."

  Mal was unconvinced. "You realize I had others to choose from, but I thought you were the most intelligent and open-minded. There are others willing to take your place, you know."

  His partner scoffed. "Who, Gadiman? The most paranoid creature to have ever skulked in the world? When we began this you said you wanted balance. Gadiman is as unbalanced and shifty as the land around Mt. Deceit. You replace me with him, you'll both be discovered and overthrown in less than a year. There's tragedy, and then there's outrage. Keep this research to creating tragedy, and you can continue it for decades. But if it produces outrage, someone will start digging, and at the bottom of the pit they'll find you!"

  Mal met his stony glare. "The return of the Guarders is tragic, my good doctor," he said slowly. "If Shin wants to avoid tragedy, and wants his woman to birth another baby, he's going to have to make sure of her safety himself. Shin's a test subject. If you can't handle that, I'm sure Gadiman can. What's it going to be, Doctor Brisack?"

  Brisack swallowed hard. "Speculation-fatherhood has made Shin so fierce a bear that not even a dozen Guarders could bring him down."

  "A dozen you say? Fine," Mal smiled thinly. "A dozen for Captain Shin it is, then."

  ---

  It wasn't unusual to see the Administrator of Family Life out in the city of Idumea, not even this early as the sun was rising. Of all the Administrators he was the least intimidating and most gregarious. He smiled at people as he passed and was known as The Good Doctor, be it for his effectiveness or his manner, no one was quite sure. But his eyes had that sparkle one hoped to see when they're being told that it was indeed a raging infection, but he just might have something new to treat it that didn't involve cutting, sucking, or bleeding, so don't worry, sit tight, and be sure not to touch anything on your way out.

  Ten years ago he joined the university working with other surgeons to experiment with sulfurs, resins, herbs, and anything else nature provided that might be medically beneficial. The university work was occasionally more time-consuming but certainly more predictable than panicked knocks on his door at all hours.

  Still, he was frequently stopped along the road to "take a quick look" at something. It never failed to amuse him how modesty vanished in public places when the most famous doctor in the world could be persuaded to examine a body part usually kept under wraps, even in one's darkened bedroom.

  But The Good Doctor marched with single-mindedness this morning through the mansion district and on to the official messenger service several blocks away. Something like this shouldn't go through the regular messenger service, because that mode of delivery would serve only to confuse, not enlighten.

  The fifty-five-year-old man, his gray-brown hair balding on top-and no, he wasn't working on a cure for something as vain as that; besides, balding men are more virile, everyone knew that-didn't notice the waves to get his attention, or the elderly man who held up a wrapped foot barely outside his peripheral vision. The Good Doctor stared only ahead of him, dodging citizens, carts, horses, and anything else that suddenly appeared in his shortened view.

  He only hoped he worded it correctly. It had to be subtle yet obvious, while vague yet telling. But writing complex details, cataloguing findings, choosing words for their specificity, not their ambiguity, was all he'd ever done before.

  Yet he couldn't allow this. This was beyond research, running into senseless revenge. Revenge for a purpose, yes; he could see the reasoning for balancing the scales once they'd been brutally upset.

  But this? To call it research insulted science, and he wouldn't stand for that. It was now a cruel game, and the main participant didn't even know he was playing. He deserved a fighting chance.

  The Good Doctor was going to give him one.

  After all, it was the doctor who gave Wiles' map of Edge to Mal, marked with the future Mrs. Shin's home. He was merely evening the odds.

  ---

  Chairman Mal took a deep breath and sighed. "Yes, I actually do want to see him again," he said to the page that stood at the door.

  "Told you!" said a voice full of heartless glee, and the lanky man barged through.

  The page backed up quickly, shutting the door behind him.

  "Well, Gadiman?" Mal asked calmly.

  "I had him followed all the way. Found the message, too!" His small eyes brightened as he licked his lips.

  "Where's the message now, Gadiman?"

  "On its way. That's what you wanted, right?"

  Mal nodded. "Yes. Were you careful?"

  "I'm always careful!" Gadiman bristled. "No one will be able to tell the seal was broken or the message read."

  "So what did it say?" Mal clasped his hands together.

  "He wrote, 'Captain Shin, a dozen will be awaiting in the shadows to assist in the care of your wife and daughter.'"

  Mal pondered that while Gadiman puffed and bounced from one foot to another.

  "Don't you get it? He told Shin! About the twelve men you're going to send!"

  Mal nodded slowly. "I could tell that he couldn't let this happen. He knows he can't stop it, but thinks he can send a warning."

  "So can I bring him in for questioning?"

  "No! Of course not! What has he done wrong, as an Administrator? Nothing. I can handle him-if there's anything to handle. Shin may understand the warning, but he won't know when, or how, or what. In fact, it will make him all the more edgy." His smile sucked all the warmth out of the room. "Indeed, Brisack just made this more intriguing. How will a paranoid man behave if he knows that an attack is imm
inent, but doesn't know when? Oh, how I wished I had eyes in Edge right now! Hmm. That's not a bad idea, is it now?" he muttered to himself. "My own set of eyes in Edge . . ."

  Gadiman scowled at the Chairman, following only half of what he was saying. "Sir?"

  Mal looked up.

  "What should be done? Shin will know!"

  Mal's smile frosted the windows. "He's been warned there are twelve. That's why I already sent word that fourteen will be on this mission."

  Chapter 22 ~ "Do I look like I'm about to do something stupid?"